REBECCA 

Of  Sunnybrook  Farm 

BY 

KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1903   BY  KATE    DOUGLAS  RHKJS 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


Published  October  IQOJ 


TO  MY  MOTHER 


247990 


Her  eyes  as  stars  of  Twilight  fair ; 
Like  Twilight's,  too,  her  dusky  hair; 
But  all  things  else  about  her  drawn 
From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  Dawn; 
A  dancing  Shape,  an  Image  gay, 
To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  way-lay. 

WORDSWORTH. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.   "  WE  ARE  SEVEN  " 3 

II.   REBECCA'S  RELATIONS 23 

III.  A  DIFFERENCE  IN  HEARTS 31 

IV.  REBECCA'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 43 

V.   WISDOM'S  WAYS 49 

VI.   SUNSHINE  IN  A  SHADY  PLACE    .        .    .    63 

VII.   RIVERBORO  SECRETS 73 

VIII.   COLOR  OF  ROSE 83 

IX.    ASHES  OF  ROSES 90 

X.   RAINBOW  BRIDGES 100 

XL    "THE  STIRRING  OF  THE  POWERS"    .     .  109 
XIL   "SEE  THE  PALE  MARTYR" 118 

XIII.  SNOW-WHITE;    ROSE-RED 131 

XIV.  MR.  ALADDIN 139 

XV.   THE  BANQUET  LAMP 149 

XVI.   SEASONS  OF  GROWTH 159 

XVII.   GRAY  DAYS  AND  GOLD       171 

XVIII.    REBECCA  REPRESENTS  THE  FAMILY     .  180 
XIX.   DEACON  ISRAEL'S  SUCCESSOR     ....  191 

XX.   A  CHANGE  OF  HEART 201 

XXL  THE  SKY  LINE  WIDENS •    .  211 

XXII.  CLOVER  BLOSSOMS  AND  SUNFLOWERS  224 

XXIII.   THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY 239 

XXIV.   ALADDIN  RUBS  HIS  LAMP 247 

XXV.   ROSES  OF  JOY 258 

XXVI.  OVER  THE  TEACUPS 272 


*  CONTENTS 

XXYII.    "THE  VISION  SPLENDID" 282 

XXVIII.   "TH'  INEVITABLE  YOKE" 293 

XXIX.   MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 306 

XXX.  "GOOD-BY,  SUNNYBROOK!" 315 

XXXI.  AUNT  MIRANDA'S  APOLOGY 323 


REBECCA 
OF   SUNNYBROOK   FARM 


REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM 

I 

"WE   ARE    SEVEN" 

THE  old  stage  coach  was  rumbling  along 
the  dusty  road  that  runs  from  Maple- 
wood  to  Riverboro.  The  day  was  as  warm 
as  midsummer,  though  it  was  only  the  middle  of 
May,  and  Mr.  Jeremiah  Cobb  was  favoring  the 
horses  as  much  as  possible,  yet  never  losing  sight 
of  the  fact  that  he  carried  the  mail.  The  hills  were 
many,  and  the  reins  lay  loosely  in  his  hands  as  he 
lolled  back  in  his  seat  and  extended  one  foot  and 
leg  luxuriously  over  the  dashboard.  His  brimmed 
hat  of  worn  felt  was  well  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and 
he  revolved  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  left  cheek. 

There  was  one  passenger  in  the  coach,  —  a  small 
dark-haired  person  in  a  glossy  buff  calico  dress. 
She  was  so  slender  and  so  stiffly  starched  that 
she  slid  from  space  to  space  on  the  leather  cush 
ions,  though  she  braced  herself  against  the  middle 
seat  with  her  feet  and  extended  her  cotton-gloved 
hands  on  each  side,  in  order  to  maintain  some  sort 
of  balance.  Whenever  the  wheels  sank  farther  than 
usual  into  a  rut,  or  jolted  suddenly  over  a  stone, 
she  bounded  involuntarily  into  the  air,  came  down 
again,  pushed  back  her  funny  little  straw  hat,  and 
picked  up  or  settled  more  firmly  a  small  pink  sun- 


4  REBECCA 

shade,  which  seemed  to  be  her  chief  responsibil* 
ity,  —  unless  we  except  a  bead  purse,  into  which 
she  looked  whenever  the  condition  of  the  roads 
would  permit,  finding  great  apparent  satisfaction 
in  that  its  precious  contents  neither  disappeared 
nor  grew  less.  Mr.  Cobb  guessed  nothing  of  these 
harassing  details  of  travel,  his  business  being  to 
carry  people  to  their  destinations,  not,  necessarily, 
to  make  them  comfortable  on  the  way.  Indeed  he 
had  forgotten  the  very  existence  of  this  one  un- 
noteworthy  little  passenger. 

When  he  was  about  to  leave  the  post-office  in 
Maplewood  that  morning,  a  woman  had  alighted 
from  a  wagon,  and  coming  up  to  him,  inquired 
whether  this  were  the  Riverboro  stage,  and  if  he 
were  Mr.  Cobb.  Being  answered  in  the  affirma 
tive,  she  nodded  to  a  child  who  was  eagerly  waiting 
for  the  answer,  and  who  ran  towards  her  as  if  she 
feared  to  be  a  moment  too  late.  The  child  might 
have  been  ten  or  eleven  years  old  perhaps,  but 
whatever  the  number  of  her  summers,  she  had  an 
air  of  being  small  for  her  age.  Her  mother  helped 
her  into  the  stage  coach,  deposited  a  bundle  and 
a  bouquet  of  lilacs  beside  her,  superintended  the 
"roping  on  "  behind  of  an  old  hair  trunk,  and  finally 
paid  the  fare,  counting  out  the  silver  with  great 
care. 

"  I  want  you  should  take  her  to  my  sisters* 
in  Riverboro,"  she  said.  "Do  you  know  Mi- 


REBECCA  5 

randy  and  Jane  Sawyer?  They  live  in  the  brick 
house." 

Lord  bless  your  soul,  he  knew  'em  as  well  as 
if  he  'd  made  'em  ! 

"Well,  she's  going  there,  and  they're  expecting 
her.  Will  you  keep  an  eye  on  her,  please  ?  If  she 
can  get  out  anywhere  and  get  with  folks,  or  get 
anybody  in  to  keep  her  company,  she  '11  do  it. 
Good-by,  Rebecca ;  try  not  to  get  into  any  mischief, 
and  sit  quiet,  so  you  '11  look  neat  an'  nice  when 
you  get  there.  Don't  be  any  trouble  to  Mr.  Cobb. 
—  You  see,  she's  kind  of  excited.  — We  came  on 
the  cars  from  Temperance  yesterday,  slept  all  night 
at  my  cousin's,  and  drove  from  her  house  —  eight 
miles  it  is — this  morning." 

"Good-by,  mother,  don't  worry;  you  know  it 
is  n't  as  if  I  had  n't  traveled  before." 

The  woman  gave  a  short  sardonic  laugh  and  said 
in  an  explanatory  way  to  Mr.  Cobb,  "  She 's  been  to 
Wareham  and  stayed  over  night ;  that  is  n't  much 
to  be  journey-proud  on !  " 

"  It  was  traveling,  mother,"  said  the  child  ea 
gerly  and  willfully.  "  It  was  leaving  the  farm,  and 
putting  up  lunch  in  a  basket,  and  a  little  riding 
and  a  little  steam  cars,  and  we  carried  our  night 
gowns." 

"  Don't  tell  the  whole  village  about  it,  if  we  did," 
said  the  mother,  interrupting  the  reminiscences  of 
this  experienced  voyager.  "  Have  n't  I  told  you 


6  REBECCA 

before,"  she  whispered,  in  a  last  attempt  at  dis 
cipline,  "  that  you  should  n't  talk  about  night 
gowns  and  stockings  and  —  things  like  that,  in  a 
loud  tone  of  voice,  and  especially  when  there's 
men  folks  round  ? " 

"  I  know,  mother,  I  know,  and  I  won't.  All  I 
want  to  say  is "  —  here  Mr.  Cobb  gave  a  cluck, 
slapped  the  reins,  and  the  horses  started  sedately 
on  their  daily  task  —  "  all  I  want  to  say  is  that  it 
is  a  journey  when"  —  the  stage  was  really  under 
way  now  and  Rebecca  had  to  put  her  head  out  of 
the  window  over  the  door  in  order  to  finish  her 
sentence  —  "it  is  a  journey  when  you  carry  a 
nightgown !  " 

The  objectionable  word,  uttered  in  a  high  treble, 
floated  back  to  the  offended  ears  of  Mrs.  Randall, 
who  watched  the  stage  out  of  sight,  gathered  up 
her  packages  from  the  bench  at  the  store  door, 
and  stepped  into  the  wagon  that  had  been  standing 
at  the  hitching-post.  As  she  turned  the  horse's 
head  towards  home  she  rose  to  her  feet  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  looked 
at  a  cloud  of  dust  in  the  dim  distance. 

"  Mirandy  '11  have  her  hands  full,  I  guesi,"  she 
said  to  herself ;  "  but  I  should  n't  wonder  if  it  would 
be  the  making  of  Rebecca." 

All  this  had  been  half  an  hour  ago,  and  the  sun, 
the  heat,  the  dust,  the  contemplation  of  errands  to 
be  done  in  the  great  metropolis  of  Milltown,  had 


REBECCA  7 

lulled  Mr.  Cobb's  never  active  mind  into  complete 
oblivion  as  to  his  promise  of  keeping  an  eye  on 
Rebecca. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  small  voice  above  the  rattle 
and  rumble  of  the  wheels  and  the  creaking  of  the 
harness.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  a  cricket,  a  tree 
toad,  or  a  bird,  but  having  determined  the  direction 
from  which  it  came,  he  turned  his  head  over  his 
shoulder  and  saw  a  small  shape  hanging  as  far  out 
of  the  window  as  safety  \vould  allow.  A  long  black 
braid  of  hair  swung  with  the  motion  of  the  coach  ; 
the  child  held  her  hat  in  one  hand  and  with  the 
other  made  ineffectual  attempts  to  stab  the  driver 
with  her  microscopic  sunshade. 

"  Please  let  me  speak  !  "  she  called. 

Mr.  Cobb  drew  up  the  horses  obediently. 

"  Does  it  cost  any  more  to  ride  up  there  with 
you  ? "  she  asked.  "  It 's  so  slippery  and  shiny  down 
here,  and  the  stage  is  so  much  too  big  for  me,  that 
I  rattle  round  in  it  till  I  'm  'most  black  and  blue. 
And  the  windows  are  so  small  I  can  only  see  pieces 
of  things,  and  I  've  'most  broken  my  neck  stretch 
ing  round  to  find  out  whether  my  trunk  has  fallen 
off  the  back.  It 's  my  mother's  trunk,  and  she  's 
very  choice  of  it." 

Mr.  Cobb  waited  until  this  flow  of  conversation, 
or  more  properly  speaking  this  flood  of  criticism, 
had  ceased,  and  then  said  jocularly  :  — 

"  You  can  come  up  if  you  want  to ;  there  ain't 


8  REBECCA 

no  extry  charge  to  sit  side  o'  me."  Whereupon  he 
helped  her  out,  "  boosted  "  her  up  to  the  front  seat, 
and  resumed  his  own  place. 

Rebecca  sat  down  carefully,  smoothing  her  dress 
under  her  with  painstaking  precision,  and  putting 
her  sunshade  under  its  extended  folds  between  the 
driver  and  herself.  This  done  she  pushed  back  her 
hat,  pulled  up  her  darned  white  cotton  gloves,  and 
said  delightedly :  — 

"  Oh  !  this  is  better  !  This  is  like  traveling !  I 
am  a  real  passenger  now,  and  down  there  I  felt  like 
our  setting  hen  when  we  shut  her  up  in  a  coop.  I 
hope  we  have  a  long,  long  ways  to  go  ?  " 

"Oh  !  we've  only  just  started  on  it,"  Mr.  Cobb 
responded  genially ;  "  it 's  more  'n  two  hours." 

"  Only  two  hours,"  she  sighed  "  That  will  be 
half  past  one ;  mother  will  be  at  cousin  Ann's,  the 
children  at  home  will  have  had  their  dinner,  and 
Hannah  cleared  all  away.  I  have  some  lunch,  be 
cause  mother  said  it  would  be  a  bad  beginning  to  get 
to  the  brick  house  hungry  and  have  aunt  Mirandy 
have  to  get  me  something  to  eat  the  first  thing.  — 
It 's  a  good  growing  day,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is,  certain ;  too  hot,  most.  Why  don't  you 
put  up  your  parasol  ?  " 

She  extended  her  dress  still  farther  over  the  ar 
ticle  in  question  as  she  said,  "  Oh  dear  no !  I  never 
put  it  up  when  the  sun  shines  ;  pink  fades  awfully, 
you  know,  and  I  only  carry  it  to  meetin'  cloudy 


REBECCA  9 

Sundays ;  sometimes  the  sun  comes  out  all  of  a 
sudden,  and  I  have  a  dreadful  time  covering  it  up ; 
it 's  the  dearest  thing  in  life  to  me,  but  it 's  an  awful 
care." 

At  this  moment  the  thought  gradually  permeated 
Mr.  Jeremiah  Cobb's  slow-moving  mind  that  the 
bird  perched  by  his  side  was  a  bird  of  very  different 
feather  from  those  to  which  he  was  accustomed  in 
his  daily  drives.  He  put  the  whip  back  in  its  socket, 
took  his  foot  from  the  dashboard,  pushed  his  hat 
back,  blew  his  quid  of  tobacco  into  the  road,  and  hav 
ing  thus  cleared  his  mental  decks  for  action,  he  took 
his  first  good  look  at  the  passenger,  a  look  which 
she  met  with  a  grave,  childlike  stare  of  friendly 
curiosity. 

The  buff  calico  was  faded,  but  scrupulously  clean, 
and  starched  within  an  inch  of  its  life.  From  the 
little  standing  ruffle  at  the  neck  the  child's  slender 
throat  rose  very  brown  and  thin,  and  the  head  looked 
small  to  bear  the  weight  of  dark  hair  that  hung  in 
a  thick  braid  to  her  waist.  She  wore  an  odd  little 
vizored  cap  of  white  leghorn,  which  may  either  have 
been  the  latest  thing  in  children's  hats,  or  some  bit 
of  ancient  finery  furbished  up  for  the  occasion.  It 
was  trimmed  with  a  twist  of  buff  ribbon  and  a  clus 
ter  of  black  and  orange  porcupine  quills,  which  hung 
or  bristled  stiffly  over  one  ear,  giving  her  the  quaint 
est  and  most  unusual  appearance.  Her  face  was 
without  color  and  sharp  in  outline.  As  to  features, 


io  REBECCA 

she  must  have  had  the  usual  number,  though  Mr. 
Cobb's  attention  never  proceeded  so  far  as  nose, 
forehead,  or  chin,  being  caught  on  the  way  and  held 
fast  by  the  eyes.  Rebecca's  eyes  were  like  faith,  — 
"  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence 
of  things  not  seen."  Under  her  delicately  etched 
brows  they  glowed  like  two  stars,  their  dancing 
lights  half  hidden  in  lustrous  darkness.  Their 
glance  was  eager  and  full  of  interest,  yet  never  sat 
isfied  ;  their  steadfast  gaze  was  brilliant  and  myste 
rious,  and  had  the  effect  of  looking  directly  through 
the  obvious  to  something  beyond,  in  the  object,  in 
the  landscape,  in  you.  They  had  never  been  ac 
counted  for,  Rebecca's  eyes.  The  school  teacher 
and  the  minister  at  Temperance  had  tried  and 
failed ;  the  young  artist  who  came  for  the  summer 
to  sketch  the  red  barn,  the  ruined  mill,  and  the 
bridge  ended  by  giving  up  all  these  local  beauties 
and  devoting  herself  to  the  face  of  a  child,  —  a 
small,  plain  face  illuminated  by  a  pair  of  eyes  carry 
ing  such  messages,  such  suggestions,  such  hints  of 
sleeping  power  and  insight,  that  one  never  tired  of 
looking  into  their  shining  depths,  nor  of  fancying 
that  what  one  saw  there  was  the  reflection  of  one's 
own  thought. 

Mr.  Cobb  made  none  of  these  generalizations ; 
his  remark  to  his  wife  that  night  was  simply  to  the 
effect  that  whenever  the  child  looked  at  him  she 
knocked  him  galley- west. 


REBECCA  II 

"  Miss  Ross,  a  lady  that  paints,  gave  me  the 
sunshade,"  said  Rebecca,  when  she  had  exchanged 
looks  with  Mr.  Cobb  and  learned  his  face  by  heart. 
•'*  Did  you  notice  the  pinked  double  ruffle  and  the 
white  tip  and  handle  ?  They  're  ivory.  The  handle 
is  scarred,  you  see.  That 's  because  Fanny  sucked 
and  chewed  it  in  meeting  when  I  was  n't  looking. 
I  Ve  never  felt  the  same  to  Fanny  since." 

"  Is  Fanny  your  sister  ?  " 

"  She  's  one  of  them." 

"  How  many  are  there  of  you  ?  " 

"  Seven.  There 's  verses  written  about  seven 
children :  — 

" '  Quick  was  the  little  Maid's  -eply, 
O  master  !  we  are  seven  ! ' 

I  learned  it  to  speak  in  school,  but  the  scholars 
were  hateful  and  laughed.  Hannah  is  the  oldest,  I 
come  next,  then  John,  then  Jenny,  then  Mark,  then 
Fanny,  then  Mira." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  big  family  !  " 

"  Far  too  big,  everybody  says,"  replied  Rebecca 
with  an  unexpected  and  thoroughly  grown-up  can 
dor  that  induced  Mr.  Cobb  to  murmur,  "  I  swan  !  " 
and  insert  more  tobacco  in  his  left  cheek. 

"  They  're  dear,  but  such  a  bother,  and  cost  so 
much  to  feed,  you  see,"  she  rippled  on.  "  Hannah 
and  I  have  n't  done  anything  but  put  babies  to  bed 
at  night  and  take  them  up  in  the  morning  for  years 
and  years.  But  it 's  finished,  that 's  one  comfort, 


12  REBECCA 

and  we  '11  have  a  lovely  time  when  we  're  all  grown 
up  and  the  mortgage  is  paid  off." 

"All  finished?  Oh,  you  mean  you've  come 
away  ? " 

"  No,  I  mean  they  're  all  over  and  done  with ; 
our  family  's  finished.  Mother  says  so,  and  she  al 
ways  keeps  her  promises.  There  has  n't  been  any 
since  Mira,  and  she  's  three.  She  was  born  the 
day  father  died  Aunt  Miranda  wanted  Hannah 
to  come  to  Riverboro  instead  of  me,  but  mother 
could  n't  spare  her ;  she  takes  hold  of  housework 
better  than  I  do,  Hannah  does.  I  told  mother  last 
night  if  there  was  likely  to  be  any  more  children 
while  I  was  away  I  'd  have  to  be  sent  for,  for  when 
there  's  a  baby  it  always  takes  Hannah  and  me 
both,  for  mother  has  the  cooking  and  the  farm." 

"  Oh,  you  live  on  a  farm,  do  ye  ?  Where  is  it  ? 
—  near  to  where  you  got  on  ?  " 

"  Near  ?  Why,  it  must  be  thousands  of  miles ! 
We  came  from  Temperance  in  the  cars.  Then  we 
drove  a  long  ways  to  cousin  Ann's  and  went  to  bed. 
Then  we  got  up  and  drove  ever  so  far  to  Maple- 
wood,  where  the  stage  was.  Our  farm  is  away  off 
from  everywheres,  but  our  school  and  meeting 
house  is  at  Temperance,  and  that 's  only  two  miles. 
Sitting  up  here  with  you  is  most  as  good  as  climb 
ing  the  meeting-house  steeple.  I  know  a  boy  who 's 
been  up  on  our  steeple.  He  said  the  people  and 
cows  looked  like  flies.  We  have  n't  met  any  people 


REBECCA  13 

yet,  but  I  'm  kind  of  disappointed  in  the  cows ;  — 
they  don't  look  so  little  as  I  hoped  they  would; 
still  (brightening)  they  don't  look  quite  as  big  as 
if  we  were  down  side  of  them,  do  they  ?  Boys  al 
ways  do  the  nice  splendid  things,  and  girls  can  only 
do  the  nasty  dull  ones  that  get  left  over.  They 
can't  climb  so  high,  or  go  so  far,  or  stay  out  so 
late,  or  run  so  fast,  or  anything/' 

Mr.  Cobb  wiped  his  mouth  on  the  back  of  his 
hand  and  gasped.  He  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  be 
ing  hurried  from  peak  to  peak  of  a  mountain  range 
without  time  to  take  a  good  breath  in  between. 

"I  can't  seem  to  locate  your  farm,"  he  said, 
"  though  I  've  been  to  Temperance  and  used  to  live 
up  that  way.  What 's  your  folks'  name  ? " 

"  Randall  My  mother's  name  is  Aurelia  Ran 
dall  ;  our  names  are  Hannah  Lucy  Randall,  Re 
becca  Rowena  Randall,  John  Halifax  Randall,  Jenny 
Lind  Randall,  Marquis  Randall,  Fanny  Ellsler 
Randall,  and  Miranda  Randall.  Mother  named  half 
of  us  and  father  the  other  half,  but  we  did  n't  come 
out  even,  so  they  both  thought  it  would  be  nice  to 
name  Mira  after  aunt  Miranda  in  Riverboro  ;  they 
hoped  it  might  do  some  good,  but  it  did  n't,  and  now 
we  call  her  Mira.  We  are  all  named  after  some 
body  in  particular.  Hannah  is  Hannah  at  the 
Window  Binding  Shoes,  and  I  am  taken  out  of 
Ivanhoe  ;  John  Halifax  was  a  gentleman  in  a  book  ; 
Mark  is  after  his  uncle  Marquis  de  Lafayette  that 


14  REBECCA 

died  a  twin.  (Twins  very  often  don't  live  to  grow 
up,  and  triplets  almost  never  —  did  you  know  that, 
Mr.  Cobb  ?)  We  don't  call  him  Marquis,  only  Mark. 
Jenny  is  named  for  a  singer  and  Fanny  for  a  beauti 
ful  dancer,  but  mother  says  they  're  both  misfits,  for 
Jenny  can't  carry  a  tune  and  Fanny 's  kind  of  stiff- 
legged.  Mother  would  like  to  call  them  Jane  and 
Frances  and  give  up  their  middle  names,  but  she 
says  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  father.  She  says  we 
must  always  stand  up  for  father,  because  everything 
was  against  him,  and  he  would  n't  have  died  if  he 
had  n't  had  such  bad  luck.  I  think  that 's  all  there 
is  to  tell  about  us,"  she  finished  seriously. 

"  Land  o'  Liberty !  I  should  thi/ik  it  was 
enough,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Cobb.  "There  wa'n't 
many  names  left  when  your  mother  got  through 
choosin' !  You  Ve  got  a  powerful  good  memory ! 
I  guess  it  ain't  no  trouble  for  you  to  learn  your 
lessons,  is  it  ? " 

"  Not  much ;  the  trouble  is  to  get  the  shoes  to 
go  and  learn  'em.  These  are  spandy  new  I  Ve  got 
on,  and  they  have  to  last  six  months.  Mother  al 
ways  says  to  save  my  shoes.  There  don't  seem 
to  be  any  way  of  saving  shoes  but  taking  'em  off 
and  going  barefoot ;  but  I  can't  do  that  in  River- 
boro  without  shaming  aunt  Mirandy.  I  'm  going  to 
school  right  along  now  when  I  'm  living  with  aunt 
Mirandy,  and  in  two  years  I  'm  going  to  the  semi 
nary  at  Wareham  ;  mother  says  it  ought  to  be  the 


REBECCA  15 

making  of  me  !  I  'm  going  to  be  a  painter  like  Miss 
Ross  when  I  get  through  school.  At  any  rate,  that 's 
what  /think  I  'm  going  to  be.  Mother  thinks  I  'd 
better  teach." 

"  Your  farm  ain't  the  old  Hobbs  place,  is  it  ?  " 

"  No,  it 's  just  Randall's  Farm.  At  least  that 's 
what  mother  calls  it.  I  call  it  Sunnybrook  Farm." 

"  I  guess  it  don't  make  no  difference  what  you 
call  it  so  long  as  you  know  where  it  is,"  remarked 
Mr.  Cobb  sententiously. 

Rebecca  turned  the  full  light  of  her  eyes  upon 
him  reproachfully,  almost  severely,  as  she  an 
swered  :  — 

"  Oh !  don't  say  that,  and  be  like  all  the  rest !  It 
does  make  a  difference  what  you  call  things.  When 
I  say  Randall's  Farm,  do  you  see  how  it  looks  ? " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  I  do,"  responded  Mr.  Cobb  un 
easily. 

"  Now  when  I  say  Sunnybrook  Farm,  what  does 
it  make  you  think  of  ? " 

Mr.  Cobb  felt  like  a  fish  removed  from  his  native 
element  and  left  panting  on  the  sand  ;  there  was 
no  evading  the  awful  responsibility  of  a  reply,  for 
Rebecca's  eyes  were  searchlights,  that  pierced  the 
fiction  of  his  brain  and  perceived  the  bald  spot  on 
the  back  of  his  head. 

"  I  s'pose  there 's  a  brook  somewheres  near  it," 
he  said  timorously. 

Rebecca  looked  disappointed  but  not  quite  dis- 


16  REBECCA 

heartened.  "That's  pretty  good,"  she  said  en 
couragingly.  "  You  're  warm  but  not  hot ;  there 's 
a  brook,  but  not  a  common  brook.  It  has  young 
trees  and  baby  bushes  on  each  side  of  it,  and  it 's  a 
shallow  chattering  little  brook  with  a  white  sandy 
bottom  and  lots  of  little  shiny  pebbles.  Whenever 
there's  a  bit  of  sunshine  the  brook  catches  it,  and 
it's  always  full  of  sparkles  the  livelong  day. 
Don't  your  stomach  feel  hollow  ?  Mine  does !  I 
was  so  'fraid  I  'd  miss  the  stage  I  could  n't  eat  any 
breakfast." 

"  You  'd  better  have  your  lunch,  then.  I  don't 
eat  nothin'  till  I  get  to  Milltown ;  then  I  get  a 
piece  o'  pie  and  cup  o'  coffee." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  Milltown.  I  suppose  it's 
bigger  and  grander  even  than  Wareham  ;  more  like 
Paris  ?  Miss  Ross  told  me  about  Paris  ;  she  bought 
my  pink  sunshade  there  and  my  bead  purse.  You 
see  how  it  opens  with  a  snap  ?  I  've  twenty  cents 
in  it,  and  it 's  got  to  last  three  months,  for  stamps 
and  paper  and  ink.  Mother  says  aunt  Mirandy 
won't  want  to  buy  things  like  those  when  she  's 
feeding  and  clothing  me  and  paying  for  my  school- 
books." 

"  Paris  ain't  no  great,"  said  Mr.  Cobb  dispara 
gingly.  "  It 's  the  dullest  place  in  the  State  o' 
Maine.  I  Ve  druv  there  many  a  time." 

Again  Rebecca  was  obliged  to  reprove  Mr.  Cobb, 
tacitly  and  quietly,  but  none  the  less  surely,  though 


REBECCA  17 

the  reproof  was  dealt  with  one  glance,  quickly  sent 
and  as  quickly  withdrawn. 

"  Paris  is  the  capital  of  France,  and  you  have  to 
go  to  it  on  a  boat,"  she  said  instructively.  "  It 's  in 
my  geography,  and  it  says  :  '  The  French  are  a  gay 
and  polite  people,  fond  of  dancing  and  light  wines.' 
I  asked  the  teacher  what  light  wines  were,  and  he 
thought  it  was  something  like  new  cider,  or  maybe 
ginger  pop.  I  can  see  Paris  as  plain  as  day  by  just 
shutting  my  eyes.  The  beautiful  ladies  are  always 
gayly  dancing  around  with  pink  sunshades  and 
bead  purses,  and  the  grand  gentlemen  are  politely 
dancing  and  drinking  ginger  pop.  But  you  can  see 
Milltown  most  every  day  with  your  eyes  wide 
open,"  Rebecca  said  wistfully. 

"Milltown  ain't  no  great,  neither,"  replied  Mr. 
Cobb,  with  the  air  of  having  visited  all  the  cities  of 
the  earth  and  found  them  as  naught.  "  Now  you 
watch  me  heave  this  newspaper  right  onto  Mis' 
Brown's  doorstep." 

Piff !  and  the  packet  landed  exactly  as  it  was 
intended,  on  the  corn  husk  mat  in  front  of  the 
screen  door. 

"  Oh,  how  splendid  that  was  !  "  cried  Rebecca 
with  enthusiasm.  "Just  like  the  knife  thrower 
Mark  saw  at  the  circus.  I  wish  there  was  a  long, 
long  row  of  houses  each  with  a  corn  husk  mat  and 
a  screen  door  in  the  middle,  and  a  newspaper  to 
throw  on  every  one  I " 


i8  REBECCA 

"  I  might  fail  on  some  of  'em,  you  know,"  said 
Mr.  Cobb,  beaming  with  modest  pride.  "  If  your 
aunt  Mirandy  '11  let  you,  I  '11  take  you  down  to 
Milltown  some  day  this  summer  when  the  stage 
ain't  full." 

A  thrill  of  delicious  excitement  ran  through  Re 
becca's  frame,  from  her  new  shoes  up,  up  to  the 
leghorn  cap  and  down  the  black  braid.  She  pressed 
Mr.  Cobb's  knee  ardently  and  said  in  a  voice  chok 
ing  with  tears  of  joy  and  astonishment,  "  Oh,  it 
can't  be  true,  it  can't ;  to  think  I  should  see  Mill- 
town.  It 's  like  having  a  fairy  godmother  who  asks 
you  your  wish  and  then  gives  it  to  you  !  Did  you 
ever  read  Cinderella,  or  The  Yellow  Dwarf,  or  The 
Enchanted  Frog,  or  The  Fair  One  with  Golden 
Locks  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Cobb  cautiously,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  "  I  don't  seem  to  think  I  ever  did  read 
jest  those  partic'lar  ones.  Where  'd  you  get  a 
chance  at  so  much  readin'  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  've  read  lots  of  books,"  answered  Re 
becca  casually.  "  Father's  and  Miss  Ross's  and  all 
the  dif'rent  school  teachers',  and  all  in  the  Sunday- 
school  library.  I  've  read  The  Lamplighter,  and 
Scottish  Chiefs,  and  Ivanhoe,  and  The  Heir  of  Red- 
clyffe,  and  Cora,  the  Doctor's  Wife,  and  David  Cop- 
perfield,  and  The  Gold  of  Chickaree,  and  Plutarch's 
Lives,  and  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  and  Pilgrim's  Pro 
gress,  and  lots  more.  —  What  have  you  read  ? " 


REBECCA  19 

"  I  've  never  happened  to  read  those  particular 
books ;  but  land  !  I  've  read  a  sight  in  my  time ! 
Nowadays  I  'm  so  drove  I  get  along  with  the  Al 
manac,  the  Weekly  Argus,  and  the  Maine  State 
Agriculturist. — There's  the  river  again;  this  is 
the  last  long  hill,  and  when  we  get  to  the  top  of  it 
we'll  see  the  chimbleys  of  Riverboro  in  the  dis 
tance.  'T  ain't  fur.  I  live  'bout  half  a  mile  beyond 
the  brick  house  myself." 

Rebecca's  hand  stirred  nervously  in  her  lap  and 
she  moved  in  her  seat.  "  I  did  n't  think  I  was  go 
ing  to  be  afraid,"  she  said  almost  under  her  breath  ; 
"but  I  guess  I  am,  just  a  little  mite  —  when  you 
say  it 's  coming  so  near." 

"  Would  you  go  back  ? "  asked  Mr.  Cobb  curi 
ously. 

She  flashed  him  an  intrepid  look  and  then  said 
proudly,  "  I  'd  never  go  back  —  I  might  be  fright 
ened,  but  I  'd  be  ashamed  to  run.  Going  to  aunt 
Mirandy's  is  like  going  down  cellar  in  the  dark. 
There  might  be  ogres  and  giants  under  the  stairs, 
—  but,  as  I  tell  Hannah,  there  might  be  elves  and 
fairies  and  enchanted  frogs! — Is  there  a  main 
street  to  the  village,  like  that  in  Wareham  ?" 

"  I  s'pose  you  might  call  it  a  main  street,  an' 
your  aunt  Sawyer  lives  on  it,  but  there  ain't  no 
stores  nor  mills,  an'  it 's  an  awful  one-horse  vil 
lage  !  You  have  to  go  'cross  the  river  an'  get  on 
to  our  side  if  you  want  to  see  anything  goin'  on." 


20  REBECCA 

"  I  'm  almost  sorry,"  she  sighed,  "  because  it 
tfould  be  so  grand  to  drive  down  a  real  main  street, 
sitting  high  up  like  this  behind  two  splendid  horses, 
with  my  pink  sunshade  up,  and  everybody  in  town 
wondering  who  the  bunch  of  lilacs  and  the  hair 
trunk  belongs  to.  It  would  be  just  like  the  beau 
tiful  lady  in  the  parade.  Last  summer  the  circus 
came  to  Temperance,  and  they  had  a  procession  in 
the  morning.  Mother  let  us  all  walk  in  and  wheel 
Mira  in  the  baby  carriage,  because  we  couldn't 
afford  to  go  to  the  circus  in  the  afternoon.  And 
there  were  lovely  horses  and  animals  in  cages,  and 
clowns  on  horseback ;  and  at  the  very  end  came  a 
little  red  and  gold  chariot  drawn  by  two  ponies,  and 
in  it,  sitting  on  a  velvet  cushion,  was  the  snake 
charmer,  all  dressed  in  satin  and  spangles.  She  was 
so  beautiful  beyond  compare,  Mr.  Cobb,  that  you 
had  to  swallow  lumps  in  your  throat  when  you 
looked  at  her,  and  little  cold  feelings  crept  up  and 
down  your  back.  Don't  you  know  how  I  mean  ? 
Did  n't  you  ever  see  anybody  that  made  you  feel 
like  that?" 

Mr.  Cobb  was  more  distinctly  uncomfortable  at 
this  moment  than  he  had  been  at  any  one  time 
during  the  eventful  morning,  but  he  evaded  the 
point  dexterously  by  saying,  "  There  ain't  no  harm, 
as  I  can  see,  in  our  makin'  the  grand  entry  in  the 
biggest  style  we  can.  I  '11  take  the  whip  out,  set 
up  straight,  an'  drive  fast ;  you  hold  your  bo'quet 


REBECCA  21 

in  your  lap,  an'  open  your  little  red  parasol,  an* 
we  '11  jest  make  the  natives  stare  !  " 

The  child's  face  was  radiant  for  a  moment,  but 
the  glow  faded  just  as  quickly  as  she  said,  "I  for 
got  —  mother  put  me  inside,  and  maybe  she  'd  want 
me  to  be  there  when  I  got  to  aunt  Mirandy's. 
Maybe  I  'd  be  more  genteel  inside,  and  then  I 
wouldn't  have  to  be  jumped  down  and  my  clothes 
fly  up,  but  could  open  the  door  and  step  down  like 
a  lady  passenger.  Would  you  please  stop  a  minute, 
Mr.  Cobb,  and  let  me  change  ?  " 

The  stage  driver  good-naturedly  pulled  up  his 
horses,  lifted  the  excited  little  creature  down,  opened 
the  door,  and  helped  her  in,  putting  the  lilacs  and 
the  pink  sunshade  beside  her. 

"  We  've  had  a  great  trip,"  he  said,  "  and  we  've 
got  real  well  acquainted,  have  n't  we  ?  —  You  won't 
forget  about  Milltown  ?  " 

"Never!"  she  exclaimed  f  ervently  ;  "and  you're 
sure  you  won't,  either  ?  " 

"Never!  Cross  my  heart!"  vowed  Mr.  Cobb 
solemnly,  as  he  remounted  his  perch ;  and  as  the 
stage  rumbled  down  the  village  street  between  the 
green  maples,  those  who  looked  from  their  windows 
saw  a  little  brown  elf  in  buff  calico  sitting  primly 
on  the  back  seat  holding  a  great  bouquet  tightly  in 
one  hand  and  a  pink  parasol  in  the  other.  Had  they 
been  farsighted  enough  they  might  have  seen,  when 
the  stage  turned  into  the  side  dooryard  of  the  old 


22  REBECCA 

brick  house,  a  calico  yoke  rising  and  falling  tem 
pestuously  over  the  beating  heart  beneath,  the  red 
color  coming  and  going  in  two  pale  cheeks,  and  a 
mist  of  tears  swimming  in  two  brilliant  dark  eyes. 

Rebecca's  journey  had  ended. 

"  There 's  the  stage  turnin'  into  the  Sawyer 
girls'  dooryard,"  said  Mrs.  Perkins  to  her  husband. 
"  That  must  be  the  niece  from  up  Temperance  way. 
It  seems  they  wrote  to  Aurelia  and  invited  Hannah, 
the  oldest,  but  Aurelia  said  she  could  spare  Rebecca 
better,  if  't  was  all  the  same  to  Mirandy  'n'  Jane ; 
so  it 's  Rebecca  that 's  come.  She  '11  be  good 
comp'ny  for  our  Emma  Jane,  but  I  don't  believe 
they  '11  keep  her  three  months  !  She  looks  black 
as  an  Injun  what  I  can  see  of  her ;  black  and  kind 
of  up-an-comin'.  They  used  to  say  that  one  o'  the 
Randalls  married  a  Spanish  woman,  somebody 
that  was  teachin'  music  and  languages  at  a  boardin' 
school.  Lorenzo  was  dark  complected,  you  remem 
ber,  and  this  child  is,  too.  Well,  I  don't  know  as 
Spanish  blood  is  any  real  disgrace,  not  if  it 's  a  good 
ways  back  and  the  woman  was  respectable." 


REBECCA'S  RELATIONS 

THEY  had  been  called  the  Sawyer  girls  when 
Miranda  at  eighteen,  Jane  at  twelve,  and 
Aurelia  at  eight  participated  in  the  various 
activities  of  village  life ;  and  when  Riverboro  fell 
into  a  habit  of  thought  or  speech,  it  saw  no  reason 
for  falling  out  of  it,  at  any  rate  in  the  same  century. 
So  although  Miranda  and  Jane  were  between  fifty 
and  sixty  at  the  time  this  story  opens,  Riverboro 
still  called  them  the  Sawyer  girls.  They  were  spin 
sters  ;  but  Aurelia,  the  youngest,  had  made  what 
she  called  a  romantic  marriage  and  what  her  sisters 
termed  a  mighty  poor  speculation.  "  There  's  worse 
things  than  bein'  old  maids,"  they  said ;  whether 
they  thought  so  is  quite  another  matter. 

The  element  of  romance  in  Aurelia' s  marriage 
existed  chiefly  in  the  fact  that  Mr.  L.  D.  M.  Randall 
had  a  soul  above  farming  or  trading  and  was  a  votary 
of  the  Muses.  He  taught  the  weekly  singing-school 
(then  a  feature  of  village  life)  in  half  a  dozen  neigh 
boring  towns,  he  played  the  violin  and  "called  off" 
at  dances,  or  evoked  rich  harmonies  from  church 
melodeons  on  Sundays.  He  taught  certain  uncouth 
lads,  when  they  were  of  an  age  to  enter  society,  the 
intricacies  of  contra  dances,  or  the  steps  of  the 


24  REBECCA 

schottische  and  mazurka,  and  he  was  a  marked 
figure  in  all  social  assemblies,  though  conspicuously 
absent  from  town-meetings  and  the  purely  mascu 
line  gatherings  at  the  store  or  tavern  or  bridge. 

His  hair  was  a  little  longer,  his  hands  a  little 
whiter,  his  shoes  a  little  thinner,  his  manner  a  trifle 
more  polished,  than  that  of  his  soberer  mates ;  in 
deed  the  only  department  of  life  in  which  he  failed 
to  shine  was  the  making  of  sufficient  money  to  live 
upon.  Luckily  he  had  no  responsibilities  ;  his  father 
and  his  twin  brother  had  died  when  he  was  yet  a 
boy,  and  his  mother,  whose  only  noteworthy  achieve 
ment  had  been  the  naming  of  her  twin  sons  Marquis 
de  Lafayette  and  Lorenzo  de  Medici  Randall,  had 
supported  herself  and  educated  her  child  by  making 
coats  up  to  the  very  day  of  her  death.  She  was  wont 
to  say  plaintively,  "  I  'm  afraid  the  faculties  was  too 
much  divided  up  between  my  twins.  L.  D.  M.  is 
awful  talented,  but  I  guess  M.  D.  L.  would  'a'  ben 
the  practical  one  if  he  'd  'a'  lived." 

"  L.  D.  M.  was  practical  enough  to  get  the  rich 
est  girl  in  the  village,"  replied  Mrs.  Robinson. 

"Yes,"  sighed  his  mother,  "there  it  is  again;  if 
the  twins  could  'a'  married  Aurelia  Sawyer,  't  would 
V  been  all  right.  L.  D.  M.  was  talented  'nough  to 
get  Reely's  money,  but  M.  D.  L.  would  'a'  ben  prac 
tical  'nough  to  have  kep*  it." 

Aurelia's  share  of  the  modest  Sawyer  property 
had  been  put  into  one  thing  after  another  by  the 


REBECCA  25 

handsome  and  luckless  Lorenzo  de  Medici.  He  had 
a  graceful  and  poetic  way  of  making  an  investment 
for  each  new  son  and  daughter  that  blessed  their 
union.  "  A  birthday  present  for  our  child,  Aurelia," 
he  would  say,  —  "a  little  nest-egg  for  the  future  ;  " 
but  Aurelia  once  remarked  in  a  moment  of  bitter 
ness  that  the  hen  never  lived  that  could  sit  on 
those  eggs  and  hatch  anything  out  of  them. 

Miranda  and  Jane  had  virtually  washed  their 
hands  of  Aurelia  when  she  married  Lorenzo  de 
Medici  Randall.  Having  exhausted  the  resources 
of  Riverboro'and  its  immediate  vicinity,  the  unfor 
tunate  couple  had  moved  on  and  on  in  a  steadily 
decreasing  scale  of  prosperity  until  they  had  reached 
Temperance,  where  they  had  settled  down  and  in 
vited  fate  to  do  its  worst,  an  invitation  which  was 
promptly  accepted.  The  maiden  sisters  at  home 
wrote  to  Aurelia  two  or  three  times  a  year,  and  sent 
modest  but  serviceable  presents  to  the  children  at 
Christmas,  but  refused  to  assist  L.  D.  M.  with  the 
regular  expenses  of  his  rapidly  growing  family. 
His  last  investment,  made  shortly  before  the  birth 
of  Miranda  (named  in  a  lively  hope  of  favors  which 
never  came),  was  a  small  farm  two  miles  from 
Temperance.  Aurelia  managed  this  herself,  and  so 
it  proved  a  home  at  least,  and  a  place  for  the  unsuc 
cessful  Lorenzo  to  die  and  to  be  buried  from,  a  duty 
somewhat  too  long  deferred,  many  thought,  which 
he  performed  on  the  day  of  Mira's  birth. 


26  REBECCA 

It  was  in  this  happy-go-lucky  household  that  Re 
becca  had  grown  up.  It  was  just  an  ordinary  family ; 
two  or  three  of  the  children  were  handsome  and  the 
rest  plain,  three  of  them  rather  clever,  two  industri 
ous,  and  two  commonplace  and  dull.  Rebecca  had 
her  father's  facility  and  had  been  his  aptest  pupil. 
She  "  carried  "  the  alto  by  ear,  danced  without  being 
taught,  played  the  melodeon  without  knowing  the 
notes.  Her  love  of  books  she  inherited  chiefly  from 
her  mother,  who  found  it  hard  to  sweep  or  cook 
or  sew  when  there  was  a  novel  in  the  house.  For 
tunately  books  were  scarce,  or  the  children  might 
sometimes  have  gone  ragged  and  hungry. 

But  other  forces  had  been  at  work  in  Rebecca, 
and  the  traits  of  unknown  forbears  had  been  wrought 
into  her  fibre.  Lorenzo  de  Medici  was  flabby  and 
boneless ;  Rebecca  was  a  thing  of  fire  and  spirit : 
he  lacked  energy  and  courage  ;  Rebecca  was  plucky 
at  two  and  dauntless  at  five.  Mrs.  Randall  and 
Hannah  had  no  sense  of  humor ;  Rebecca  possessed 
and  showed  it  as  soon  as  she  could  walk  and  talk. 

She  had  not  been  able,  however,  to  borrow  her 
parents'  virtues  and  those  of  other  generous  ances 
tors  and  escape  all  the  weaknesses  in  the  calendar. 
She  had  not  her  sister  Hannah's  patience  or  her 
brother  John's  sturdy  staying  power.  Her  will  was 
sometimes  willfulness,  and  the  ease  with  which  she 
did  most  things  led  her  to  be  impatient  of  hard  tasks 
or  long  ones.  But  whatever  else  there  was  or  was 


REBECCA  2f 

not,  there  was  freedom  at  Randall's  farm.  The  chil 
dren  grew,  worked,  fought,  ate  what  and  slept  where 
they  could  ;  loved  one  another  and  their  parents 
pretty  well,  but  with  no  tropical  passion  ;  and  edu 
cated  themselves  for  nine  months  of  the  year,  each 
one  in  his  own  way. 

As  a  result  of  this  method  Hannah,  who  could 
only  have  been  developed  by  forces  applied  from 
without,  was  painstaking,  humdrum,  and  limited ; 
while  Rebecca,  who  apparently  needed  nothing  but 
space  to  develop  in,  and  a  knowledge  of  terms  in 
which  to  express  herself,  grew  and  grew  and  grew, 
always  from  within  outward.  Her  forces  of  one  sort 
and  another  had  seemingly  been  set  in  motion  when 
she  was  born ;  they  needed  no  daily  spur,  but  moved 
of  their  own  accord  —  towards  what  no  one  knew, 
least  of  all  Rebecca  herself.  The  field  for  the  exhi 
bition  of  her  creative  instinct  was  painfully  small, 
and  the  only  use  she  had  made  of  it  as  yet  was  to 
leave  eggs  out  of  the  corn  bread  one  day  and  milk 
another,  to  see  how  it  would  turn  out ;  to  part 
Fanny's  hair  sometimes  in  the  middle,  sometimes 
on  the  right,  and  sometimes  on  the  left  side ;  and  to 
play  all  sorts  of  fantastic  pranks  with  the  children, 
occasionally  bringing  them  to  the  table  as  fictitious 
or  historical  characters  found  in  her  favorite  books. 
Rebecca  amused  her  mother  and  her  family  gen 
erally,  but  she  never  was  counted  of  serious  impor 
tance,  and  though  considered  "smart"  and  old  for 


28  REBECCA 

her  age,  she  was  never  thought  superior  in  any  way. 
Aur-elia's  experience  of  genius,  as  exemplified  in  the 
deceased  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  led  her  into  a  greater 
admiration  of  plain,  every-day  common  sense,  a  qual 
ity  in  which  Rebecca,  it  must  be  confessed,  seemed 
sometimes  painfully  deficient. 

Hannah  was  her  mother's  favorite,  so  far  as  Aure- 
lia  could  indulge  herself  in  such  recreations  as  par 
tiality.  The  parent  who  is  obliged  to  feed  and  clothe, 
seven  children  on  an  income  of  fifteen  dollars  a 
month  seldom  has  time  to  discriminate  carefully  be 
tween  the  various  members  of  her  brood,  but  Hannah 
at  fourteen  was  at  once  companion  and  partner  in 
all  her  mother's  problems.  She  it  was  who  kept  the 
house  while  Aurelia  busied  herself  in  barn  and  field. 
Rebecca  was  capable  of  certain  set  tasks,  such  as 
keeping  the  small  children  from  killing  themselves 
and  one  another,  feeding  the  poultry,  picking  up 
chips,  hulling  strawberries,  wiping  dishes ;  but  she 
was  thought  irresponsible,  and  Aurelia,  needing 
somebody  to  lean  on  (having  never  enjoyed  that 
luxury  with  the  gifted  Lorenzo),  leaned  on  Hannah. 
Hannah  showed  the  result  of  this  attitude  somewhat, 
being  a  trifle  careworn  in  face  and  sharp  in  manner ; 
but  she  was  a  self-contained,  well-behaved,  depend 
able  child,  and  that  is  the  reason  her  aunts  had  invited 
her  to  Riverboro  to  be  a  member  of  their  family  and 
participate  in  all  the  advantages  of  their  loftier 
position  in  the  world.  It  was  several  years  since 


REBECCA  29 

Miranda  and  Jane  had  seen  the  children,  but  they 
remembered  with  pleasure  that  Hannah  had  not 
spoken  a  word  during  the  interview,  and  it  was 
for  this  reason  that  they  had  asked  for  the  pleasure 
of  her  company.  Rebecca,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
dressed  up  the  dog  in  John's  clothes,  and  being 
requested  to  get  the  three  younger  children  ready 
for  dinner,  she  had  held  them  under  the  pump  and 
then  proceeded  to  "  smack  "  their  hair  flat  to  their 
heads  by  vigorous  brushing,  bringing  them  to  the 
table  in  such  a  moist  and  hideous  state  of  shininess 
that  their  mother  was  ashamed  of  their  appearance. 
Rebecca's  own  black  locks  were  commonly  pushed 
smoothly  off  her  forehead,  but  on  this  occasion  she 
formed  what  I  must  perforce  call  by  its  only  name, 
a  spit-curl,  directly  in  the  centre  of  her  brow,  an 
ornament  which  she  was  allowed  to  wear  a  very 
short  time,  only  in  fact  till  Hannah  was  able  to  call 
her  mother's  attention  to  it,  when  she  was  sent 
into  the  next  room  to  remove  it  and  to  come  back 
looking  like  a  Christian.  This  command  she  inter 
preted  somewhat  too  literally  perhaps,  because  she 
contrived  in  a  space  of  two  minutes  an  extremely 
pious  style  of  hairdressing,  fully  as  effective  if  not 
as  startling  as  the  first.  These  antics  were  solely 
the  result  of  nervous  irritation,  a  mood  born  of  Miss 
Miranda  Sawyer's  stiff,  grim,  and  martial  attitude. 
The  remembrance  of  Rebecca  was  so  vivid  that  their 
sister  Aurelia's  letter  was  something  of  a  shock  to 


30  REBECCA 

the  quiet,  elderly  spinsters  of  the  brick  house  ;  for 
it  said  that  Hannah  could  not  possibly  be  spared 
for  a  few  years  yet,  but  that  Rebecca  would  come 
as  soon  as  she  could  be  made  ready  ;  that  the  offer 
was  most  thankfully  appreciated,  and  that  the  regu 
lar  schooling  and  church  privileges,  as  well  as  the 
influence  of  the  Sawyer  home,  would  doubtless  be 
"the  making  of  Rebecca." 


in 

A  DIFFERENCE   IN   HEARTS 

I  DON'  know  as  I  cal'lated  to  be  the  makm*  of  any 
child,"  Miranda  had  said  as  she  folded  Aure- 
lia's  letter  and  laid  it  in  the  light-stand  drawer. 
"  I  s'posed,  of  course,  Aurelia  would  send  us  the 
one  we  asked  for,  but  it 's  just  like  her  to  palm  off 
that  wild  young  one  on  somebody  else." 

"  You  remember  we  said  that  Rebecca  or  even 
Jenny  might  come,  in  case  Hannah  could  n't,"  inter 
posed  Jane. 

"  I  know  we  did,  but  we  had  n't  any  notion  it  would 
turn  out  that  way,"  grumbled  Miranda. 

"  She  was  a  mite  of  a  thing  when  we  saw  her 
three  years  ago,"  ventured  Jane;  "she's  had  time 
to  improve." 

"  And  time  to  grow  worse  !  " 

"  Won't  it  be  kind  of  a  privilege  to  put  her  on  the 
right  track  ?  "  asked  Jane  timidly. 

"  I  don'  know  about  the  privilege  part ;  it  '11  be 
considerable  of  a  chore,  I  guess.  If  her  mother  hain't 
got  her  on  the  right  track  by  now,  she  won't  take  to 
it  herself  all  of  a  sudden." 

This  depressed  and  depressing  frame  of  mind  had 
lasted  until  the  eventful  day  dawned  on  which  Re 
becca  was  to  arrive. 


32  REBECCA 

"  If  she  makes  as  much  work  after  she  comes  as 
she  has  before,  we  might  as  well  give  up  hope  of 
ever  gettin'  any  rest,"  sighed  Miranda  as  she  hung 
the  dish  towels  on  the  barberry  bushes  at  the  side 
door. 

"  But  we  should  have  had  to  clean  house,  Rebecca 
or  no  Rebecca,"  urged  Jane;  "and  I  can't  see  why 
you  've  scrubbed  and  washed  and  baked  as  you  have 
for  that  one  child,  nor  why  you  've  about  bought  out 
Watson's  stock  of  dry  goods." 

"I  know  Aurelia  if  you  don't,"  responded  Mi 
randa.  "  I  've  seen  her  house,  and  I  've  seen  that 
batch  o'  children,  wearin'  one  another's  clothes  and 
never  carin'  whether  they  had  'em  on  right  sid'  out 
Dr  not ;  I  know  what  they  've  had  to  live  and  dress 
on,  and  so  do  you.  That  child  will  like  as  not  come 
here  with  a  passel  o'  things  borrowed  from  the 
rest  o'  the  family.  She  '11  have  Hannah's  shoes  and 
John's  undershirts  and  Mark's  socks  most  likely. 
I  suppose  she  never  had  a  thimble  on  her  finger  in 
her  life,  but  she  '11  know  the  feelin'  o'  one  before 
she  's  ben  here  many  days.  I  've  bought  a  piece  of 
unbleached  muslin  and  a  piece  o'  brown  gingham 
for  her  to  make  up;  that'll  keep  her  busy.  Of 
course  she  won't  pick  up  anything  after  herself ;  she 
probably  never  see  a  duster,  and  she  '11  be  as  hard 
to  train  into  our  ways  as  if  she  was  a  heathen." 

"  She  '11  make  a  dif 'rence,"  acknowledged  Jane 
<;  but  she  may  turn  out  more  biddable  'n  we  think.' 


REBECCA  33 

"She'll  mind  when  she's  spoken  to,  biddable  or 
not,"  remarked  Miranda  with  a  shake  of  the  last 
towel. 

Miranda  Sawyer  had  a  heart,  of  course,  but  she 
had  never  used  it  for  any  other  purpose  than  the 
pumping  and  circulating  of  blood.  She  was  just, 
conscientious,  economical,  industrious  ;  a  regular 
attendant  at  church  and  Sunday-school,  and  a  mem 
ber  of  the  State  Missionary  and  Bible  societies,  but 
in  the  presence  of  all  these  chilly  virtues  you  longed 
for  one  warm  little  fault,  or  lacking  that,  one  lika 
ble  failing,  something  to  make  you  sure  she  was 
thoroughly  alive.  She  had  never  had  any  education 
other  than  that  of  the  neighborhood  district  school, 
for  her  desires  and  ambitions  had  all  pointed  to  the 
management  of  the  house,  the  farm,  and  the  dairy. 
Jane,  on  the  other  hand,  had  gone  to  an  academy, 
and  also  to  a  boarding-school  for  young  ladies  ;  so 
had  Aurelia;  and  after  all  the  years  that  had  elapsed 
there  was  still  a  slight  difference  in  language  and 
in  manner  between  the  elder  and  the  two  younger 
sisters. 

Jane,  too,  had  had  the  inestimable  advantage  of  a 
sorrow  ;  not  the  natural  grief  at  the  loss  of  her  aged 
father  and  mother,  for  she  had  been  content  to  let 
them  go ;  but  something  far  deeper.  She  was  en 
gaged  to  marry  young  Tom  Carter,  who  had  nothing 
to  marry  on,  it  is  true,  but  who  was  sure  to  hive, 
some  time  or  other.  Then  the  war  broke  out.  Torn 


34  REBECCA 

enlisted  at  the  first  call.  Up  to  that  time  Jane  had 
loved  him  with  a  quiet,  friendly  sort  of  affection,  and 
had  given  her  country  a  mild  emotion  of  the  same 
sort.  But  the  strife,  the  danger,  the  anxiety  of  the 
time,  set  new  currents  of  feeling  in  motion.  Life  be 
came  something  other  than  the  three  meals  a  day, 
the  round  of  cooking,  washing,  sewing,  and  church- 
going.  Personal  gossip  vanished  from  the  village 
conversation.  Big  things  took  the  place  of  trifling 
ones,  —  sacred  sorrc  ws  of  wives  and  mothers,  pangs 
of  fathers  and  husbands,  self-denials,  sympathies, 
new  desire  to  bear  one  another's  burdens.  Men 
and  women  grew  fast  in  those  days  of  the  nation's 
trouble  and  danger,  and  Jane  awoke  from  the  vague 
dull  dream  she  had  hitherto  called  life  to  new  hopes, 
new  fears,  new  purposes.  Then  after  a  year's  anx 
iety,  a  year  when  one  never  looked  in  the  news 
paper  without  dread  and  sickness  of  suspense,  came 
the  telegram  saying  that  Tom  was  wounded ;  and 
without  so  much  as  asking  Miranda's  leave,  she 
packed  her  trunk  and  started  for  the  South.  She 
was  in  time  to  hold  Tom's  hand  through  hours  of 
pain  ;  to  show  him  for  once  the  heart  of  a  prim  New 
England  girl  when  it  is  ablaze  with  love  and  grief ; 
to  put  her  arms  about  him  so  that  he  could  have  a 
home  to  die  in,  and  that  was  all;  — all,  but  it  served. 
It  carried  her  through  weary  months  of  nursing 
—  nursing  of  other  soldiers  for  Tom's  dear  sake ;  it 
sent  her  home  a  better  woman ;  and  though  she  had 


REBECCA  35 

-uever  left  Riverboro  in  all  the  years  that  lay  between, 
ind  had  grown  into  the  counterfeit  presentment  of 
her  sister  and  of  all  other  thin,  spare,  New  England 
jpinsters,  it  was  something  of  a  counterfeit,  and  un 
derneath  was  still  the  faint  echo  of  that  wild  heart 
beat  of  her  girlhood.  Having  learned  the  trick  of 
beating  and  loving  and  suffering,  the  poor  faith 
ful  heart  persisted,  although  it  lived  on  memories 
and  carried  on  its  sentimental  operations  mostly  in 
secret. 

"You're  soft,  Jane,"  said  Miranda  once;  "you 
allers  was  soft,  and  you  allers  will  be.  If  't  wa'n't 
for  me  keeping  you  stiffened  up,  I  b'lieve  you'd 
leak  out  o'  the  house  into  the  dooryard." 

It  was  already  past  the  appointed  hour  for  Mr. 
Cobb  and  his  coach  to  be  lumbering  down  the 
street. 

"  The  stage  ought  to  be  here,"  said  Miranda* 
glancing  nervously  at  the  tall  clock  for  the  twen 
tieth  time.  "  I  guess  everything 's  done.  I  've 
tacked  up  two  thick  towels  back  of  her  washstand 
and  put  a  mat  under  her  slop-jar;  but  children  are 
awful  hard  on  furniture.  I  expect  we  sha'n't  know 
this  house  a  year  from  now." 

Jane's  frame  of  mind  was  naturally  depressed 
and  timorous,  having  been  affected  by  Miranda's 
gloomy  presages  of  evil  to  come.  The  only  differ 
ence  between  the  sisters  in  this  matter  was  that 


36  REBECCA 

while  Miranda  only  wondered  how  they  could  en 
dure  Rebecca,  Jane  had  flashes  of  inspiration  in 
which  she  wondered  how  Rebecca  would  endure 
them.  It  was  in  one  of  these  flashes  that  she  ran 
up  the  back  stairs  to  put  a  vase  of  apple  blossoms 
and  a  red  tomato-pincushion  on  Rebecca's  bureau. 

The  stage  rumbled  to  the  side  door  of  the  brick 
house,  and  Mr.  Cobb  handed  Rebecca  out  like  a 
real  lady  passenger.  She  alighted  with  great  cir 
cumspection,  put  the  bunch  of  faded  flowers  in  her 
aunt  Miranda's  hand,  and  received  her  salute;  it 
could  hardly  be  called  a  kiss  without  injuring  the 
fair  name  of  that  commodity. 

"  You  need  n't  'a'  bothered  to  bring  flowers,"  re 
marked  that  gracious  and  tactful  lady ;  "  the  gar 
den  's  always  full  of  'em  here  when  it  comes  time." 

Jane  then  kissed  Rebecca,  giving  a  somewhat 
better  imitation  of  the  real  thing  than  her  sister. 
"  Put  the  trunk  in  the  entry,  Jeremiah,  and  we  '11 
get  it  carried  upstairs  this  afternoon,"  she  said. 

"  1 11  take  it  up  for  ye  now,  if  ye  say  the  word, 
girls." 

"  No,  no  ;  don't  leave  the  horses  ;  somebody  '11 
be  comin'  past,  and  we  can  call  'em  in." 

"  Well,  good-by,  Rebecca ;  good-day,  Mirandy  'n* 
Jane.  You  've  got  a  lively  little  girl  there.  I  guess 
she  '11  be  a  first-rate  company  keeper." 

Miss  Sawyer  shuddered  openly  at  the  adjective 
"  lively  "  as  applied  to  a  child  ;  her  belief  being  that 


REBECCA  37 

Chough  children  might  be  seen,  if  absolutely  neces« 
sary,  they  certainly  should  never  be  heard  if  she 
could  help  it.  "  We  're  not  much  used  to  noise,  Jane 
and  me,"  she  remarked  acidly. 

Mr.  Cobb  saw  that  he  had  taken  the  wrong  tack, 
but  he  was  too  unused  to  argument  to  explain  him 
self  readily,  so  he  drove  away,  trying  to  think  by 
what  safer  word  than  "  lively  "  he  might  have  de 
scribed  his  interesting  little  passenger. 

"  I  '11  take  you  up  and  show  you  your  room, 
Rebecca,"  Miss  Miranda  said.  "  Shut  the  mosquito 
nettin'  door  tight  behind  you,  so  's  to  keep  the  iiies 
out ;  it  ain't  flytime  yet,  but  I  want  you  to  start 
right ;  take  your  passel  along  with  ye  and  then  you 
won't  have  to  come  down  for  it ;  always  make  your 
head  save  your  heels.  Rub  your  feet  on  that  braided 
rug ;  hang  your  hat  and  cape  in  the  entry  there  as 
you  go  past." 

"  It 's  my  best  hat,"  said  Rebecca. 

"  Take  it  upstairs  then  and  put  it  in  the  clothes- 
press  ;  but  I  should  n't  'a'  thought  you  'd  'a'  worn 
your  best  hat  on  the  stage." 

"  It 's  my  only  hat,"  explained  Rebecca.  "  My 
every-day  hat  was  n't  good  enough  to  bring.  Fan 
ny  's  going  to  finish  it." 

"  Lay  your  parasol  in  the  entry  closet." 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  keep  it  in  my  room,  please ! 
It  always  seems  safer." 

"  There  ain't  any  thieves  hereabouts,  and  if  tnere 


38  REBECCA 

was,  I  guess  they  wouldn't  make  for  your  sunshade  j 
but  come  along.  Remember  to  always  go  up  the 
back  way  ;  we  don't  use  the  front  stairs  on  account 
o'  the  carpet ;  take  care  o'  the  turn  and  don't  ketch 
your  foot ;  look  to  your  right  and  go  in.  When 
you've  washed  your  face  and  hands  and  brushed 
your  hair  you  can  come  down,  and  by  and  by 
we  '11  unpack  your  trunk  and  get  you  settled  before 
supper.  Ain't  you  got  your  dress  on  hind  sid'  fore 
most  ? " 

Rebecca  drew  her  chin  down  and  looked  at  the 
row  of  smoked  pearl  buttons  running  up  and  down 
the  middle  of  her  flat  little  chest. 

"  Hind  side  foremost  ?  Oh,  I  see  !  No,  that's  all 
right.  If  you  have  seven  children  you  can't  keep 
buttonin'  and  unbuttonin'  'em  all  the  time  —  they 
have  to  do  themselves.  We  're  always  buttoned  up 
in  front  at  our  house.  Mira  's  only  three,  but  she 's 
buttoned  up  in  front,  too." 

Miranda  said  nothing  as  she  closed  the  door,  but 
her  looks  were  at  once  equivalent  to  and  more  elo 
quent  than  words. 

Rebecca  stood  perfectly  still  in  the  centre  of  the 
floor  and  looked  about  her.  There  was  a  square  of 
oilcloth  in  front  of  each  article  of  furniture  and  a 
drawn-in  rug  beside  the  single  four  poster,  which 
was  covered  with  a  fringed  white  dimity  counter 
pane. 

Everything  was  as  neat  as  wax,  but  the  ceilings 


REBECCA  39 

were  much  higher  than  Rebecca  was  accustomed  to. 
It  was  a  north  room,  and  the  \\indo\v,  which  was 
long  and  narrow,  looked  out  01  the  back  buildings 
and  the  barn. 

It  was  not  the  room,  which  was  far  more  comfort 
able  than  Rebecca's  own  at  the  farm,  nor  the  lack 
of  view,  nor  yet  the  long  journey,  for  she  was  not 
conscious  of  weariness ;  it  was  not  the  fear  of  a 
strange  place,  for  she  loved  new  places  and  courted 
new  sensations  ;  it  was  because  of  some  curious 
blending  of  uncomprehended  emotions  that  Rebecca 
stood  her  sunshade  in  the  corner,  tore  off  her  best 
hat,  flung  it  on  the  bureau  with  the  porcupine  quills 
on  the  under  side,  and  stripping  down  the  dimity 
spread,  precipitated  herself  into  the  middle  of  the 
bed  and  pulled  the  counterpane  over  her  head. 

In  a  moment  the  door  opened  quietly.  Knocking 
was  a  refinement  quite  unknown  in  Riverboro,  and 
if  it  had  been  heard  of  would  never  have  been 
wasted  on  a  child. 

Miss  Miranda  entered,  and  as  her  eye  wandered 
about  the  vacant  room,  it  fell  upon  a  white  and  tem 
pestuous  ocean  of  counterpane,  an  ocean  breaking 
into  strange  movements  of  wave  and  crest  and  billow. 

"Rebecca!" 

The  tone  in  which  the  word  was  voiced  gave  it  all 
the  effect  of  having  been  shouted  from  the  housetops, 

A  dark  ruffled  head  and  two  frightened  eyes  ap 
peared  above  the  dimity  spread. 


40  REBECCA 

"What  are  you  layin'  on  your  good  bed  in  the 
daytime  for,  messin'  up  the  feathers,  and  dirtyin' 
the  pillers  with  your  dusty  boots  ? " 

Rebecca  rose  guiltily.  There  seamed  no  excuse 
to  make.  Her  offense  was  beyond  explanation  or 
apology. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  aunt  Mirandy  —  something  came 
over  me;  I  don't  know  what." 

"  Well,  if  it  comes  over  you  very  soon  again  we  '11 
have  to  find  out  what  't  is.  Spread  your  bed  up 
smooth  this  minute,  for  'Bijah  Flagg  's  bringin'  your 
trunk  upstairs,  and  I  would  n't  let  him  see  such  a 
cluttered-up  room  for  anything ;  he  'd  tell  it  all  over 
town." 

When  Mr.  Cobb  had  put  up  his  horses  that  night 
he  carried  a  kitchen  chair  to  the  side  of  his  wife, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  back  porch. 

"  I  brought  a  little  Randall  girl  down  on  the 
stage  from  Maplewood  to-day,  mother.  She 's  kin  to 
the  Sawyer  girls  an'  is  goin'  to  live  with  'em,"  he 
said,  as  he  sat  down  and  began  to  whittle.  "  She 's 
that  Aurelia's  child,  the  one  that  ran  away  with 
Susan  Randall's  son  j'^st  before  we  come  here  to 
live." 

"How  old  a  child?" 

"  'Bout  ten,  or  somewhere  along  there,  an'  small 
for  her  age ;  but  land !  she  might  be  a  hundred  to 
hear  her  talk  !  She  kep'  me  jumpin'  tryin'  to  an 


REBECCA  41 

swer  her !  Of  all  the  queer  children  I  ever  come 
across  she  's  the  queerest.  She  ain't  no  beauty  — 
her  face  is  all  eyes;  but  if  she  ever  grows  up  to 
them  eyes  an'  fills  out  a  little  she  '11  make  folks 
stare.  Land,  mother  !  I  wish 't  you  could  'a'  heard 
her  talk." 

"  I  don't  see  what  she  had  to  talk  about,  a  child 
like  that,  to  a  stranger,"  replied  Mrs.  Cobb. 

"  Stranger  or  no  stranger,  't  would  n't  make  no 
difference  to  her.  She  'd  talk  to  a  pump  or  a  grind- 
stun  ;  she  'd  talk  to  herself  ruther  'n  keep  still." 

"What  did  she  talk  about?" 

"  Blamed  if  I  can  repeat  any  of  it.  She  kep'  me 
so  surprised  I  did  n't  have  my  wits  about  me.  She 
had  a  little  pink  sunshade  —  it  kind  o'  looked  like  a 
doll's  amberill,  'n'  she  clung  to  it  like  a  burr  to  a 
woolen  stockin'.  I  advised  her  to  open  it  up — the 
sun  was  so  hot ;  but  she  said  no,  't  would  fade,  an* 
she  tucked  it  under  her  dress.  '  It 's  the  dearest 
thing  in  life  to  me,'  says  she,  '  but  it 's  a  dreadful 
care.'  Them  's  the  very  words,  an'  it 's  all  the  words 
I  remember.  'It's  the  dearest  thing  in  life  to  me,  but 
it 's  an  awful  care  ! '  " — here  Mr.  Cobb  laughed  aloud 
as  he  tipped  his  chair  back  against  the  side  of  the 
house.  "There  was  another  thing,  but  I  can't  get 
it  right  exactly.  She  was  talkin'  'bout  the  circus 
parade  an'  the  snake  charmer  in  a  gold  chariot,  an* 
says  she,  '  She  was  so  beautiful  beyond  compare, 
Mr.  Cobb,  that  it  made  you  have  lumps  in  your 


42  REBECCA 

throat  to  look  at  her.'  She'll  be  comin'  over  to 
see  you,  mother,  an'  you  can  size  her  up  for  your 
self.  I  don'  know  how  she  '11  git  on  with  Mirandy 
Sawyer  —  poor  little  soul ! " 

This  doubt  was  more  or  less  openly  expressed  in 
Riverboro,  which,  however,  had  two  opinions  on  the 
subject ;  one  that  it  was  a  most  generous  thing  in 
the  Sawyer  girls  to  take  one  of  Aurelia's  children 
to  educate,  the  other  that  the  education  would  be 
bought  at  a  price  wholly  out  of  proportion  to  its 
intrinsic  value. 

Rebecca's  first  letters  to  her  mother  would  seem 
to  indicate  that  she  cordially  coincided  with  the 
latter  view  of  the  situation. 


rv 

REBECCA'S   POINT   OF   VIEW 

DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  am  safely  here.  Mjf 
dress  was  not  much  tumbled  and  Aunt 
Jane  helped  me  press  it  out.  I  like  Mr. 
Cobb  very  much.  He  chews  but  throws  news 
papers  straight  up  to  the  doors.  I  rode  outside  a 
little  while,  but  got  inside  before  I  got  to  Aunt 
Miranda's  house.  I  did  not  want  to,  but  thought 
you  would  like  it  better.  Miranda  is  such  a  long 
word  that  I  think  I  will  say  Aunt  M.  and  Aunt  J.  in 
my  Sunday  letters.  Aunt  J.  has  given  me  a  dic 
tionary  to  look  up  all  the  hard  words  in.  It  takes 
a  good  deal  of  time  and  I  am  glad  people  can  talk 
without  stoping  to  spell.  It  is  much  eesier  to  talk 
than  write  and  much  more  fun.  The  brick  house 
looks  just  the  same  as  you  have  told  us.  The  parler 
is  splendid  and  gives  you  creeps  and  chills  when  you 
look  in  the  door.  The  furnature  is  ellergant  too,  and 
all  the  rooms  but  there  are  no  good  sitting-down 
places  exsept  in  the  kitchen.  The  same  cat  is  here 
but  they  do  not  save  kittens  when  she  has  them, 
and  the  cat  is  too  old  to  play  with.  Hannah  told 
me  once  you  ran  away  with  father  and  I  can  see  it 
would  be  nice.  If  Aunt  M.  would  run  away  I  think 
I  should  like  to  live  with  Aunt  J,  She  does  not  hate 


44  REBECCA 

me  as  bad  as  Aunt  M.  does.    Tell  Mark  he  can  have 
my  paint  box,  but  I  should  like  him  to  keep  the  red 
cake  in  case  I  come  home  again.    I  hope  Hannah 
and  John  do  not  get  tired  doing  my  chores. 
Your  afectionate  friend 

REBECCA. 

P.  S.  Please  give  the  piece  of  poetry  to  John  because 
he  likes  my  poetry  even  when  it  is  not  very  good. 
This  piece  is  not  very  good  but  it  is  true  but  I  hope 
you  won't  mind  what  is  in  it  as  you  ran  away. 

This  house  is  dark  and  dull  and  dreer 
No  light  doth  shine  from  far  or  near 
Its  like  the  tomb. 

And  those  of  us  who  live  herein 
Are  most  as  dead  as  serrafim 
Though  not  as  good. 

My  gardian  angel  is  asleep 
At  leest  he  doth  no  vigil  keep 
Ah  I  woe  is  me  J 

Then  give  me  back  my  lonely  farm 
Where  none  alive  did  wish  me  harm 
Dear  home  of  youth  1 

P.  S.  again.  I  made  the  poetry  like  a  piece  in  a 
book  but  could  not  get  it  right  at  first.  You  see 
"  tomb  "  and  "  good  "  do  not  sound  well  together  but 
I  wanted  to  say  "tomb  "  dreadfully  and  as  serrafim 
&re  always  "good"  I  couldn't  take  that  out.  I 


REBECCA  45 

have  made  it  over  now.  It  does  not  say  my  thoughts 
as  well  but  think  it  is  more  right.  Give  the  best  one 
to  John  as  he  keeps  them  in  a  box  with  his  birds' 
eggs.  This  is  the  best  one. 

SUNDAY   THOUGHTS 

BY 

REBECCA  ROWENA  RANDALL 

This  house  is  dark  and  dull  and  drear 
No  light  doth  shine  from  far  or  near 
Nor  ever  could. 

And  those  of  us  who  live  herein 
Are  most  as  dead  as  seraphim 
Though  not  as  good. 

My  guardian  angel  is  asleep 
At  least  he  doth  no  vigil  keep 
But  far  doth  roam. 

Then  give  me  back  my  lonely  farm 
Where  none  alive  did  wish  me  harm, 
Dear  childhood  home  ! 

DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  am  thrilling  with  unhappy* 
ness  this  morning.  I  got  that  out  of  Cora  The 
Doctor's  Wife  whose  husband's  mother  was  very 
cross  and  unfealing  to  her  like  Aunt  M.  to  me.  I 
wish  Hannah  had  come  instead  of  me  for  it  was 
Hannah  that  was  wanted  and  she  is  better  than 
I  am  and  does  not  answer  back  so  quick.  Are 
there  any  peaces  of  my  buff  calico.  Aunt  J.  wants 


4<5  REBECCA 

enough  to  make  a  new  waste  button  behind  so  I 
wont  look  so  outlandish.  The  stiles  are  quite  pretty 
in  Riverboro  and  those  at  Meeting  quite  ellergant 
more  so  than  in  Temperance. 

This  town  is  stilish,  gay  and  fair, 

And  full  of  well  thy  riches  rare, 

But  I  would  pillow  on  my  arm 

The  thought  of  my  sweet  Brookside  Farm. 

School  is  pretty  good.  The  Teacher  can  answer 
more  questions  than  the  Temperance  one  but  not  sc 
many  as  I  can  ask.  I  am  smarter  than  all  the  girls 
but  one  but  not  so  smart  as  two  boys.  Emma  Jane 
can  add  and  subtract  in  her  head  like  a  streek  of 
lightning  and  knows  the  speling  book  right  through 
but  has  no  thoughts  of  any  kind.  She  is  in  the 
Third  Reader  but  does  not  like  stories  in  books.  I 
am  in  the  Sixth  Reader  but  just  because  I  cannot 
say  the  seven  multiplication  Table  Miss  Dearborn 
threttens  to  put  me  in  the  baby  primer  class  with 
Elijah  and  Elisha  Simpson  little  twins. 

Sore  is  my  heart  and  bent  my  stubborn  pride, 
With  Lijah  and  with  Lisha  am  I  tied, 
My  soul  recoyles  like  Cora  Doctor's  Wife, 
Like  her  I  feer  I  cannot  bare  this  life. 

I  am  going  to  try  for  the  speling  prize  but  fear 
I  cannot  get  it.  I  would  not  care  but  wrong  spel 
ing  looks  dreadful  in  poetry.  Last  Sunday  when  I 
tound  seraphim  in  the  dictionary  I  was  ashamed  I 


REBECCA  47 

had  made  it  serrafim  but  seraphim  is  not  a  word  you 
can  guess  at  like  another  long  one  outlandish  in  this 
letter  which  spells  itself.  Miss  Dearborn  says  use 
the  words  you  can  spell  and  if  you  cant  spell  sera 
phim  make  angel  do  but  angels  are  not  just  the  same 
as  seraphims.  Seraphims  are  brighter  whiter  and 
have  bigger  wings  and  I  think  are  older  and  longer 
dead  than  angels  which  are  just  freshly  dead  and 
after  a  long  time  in  heaven  around  the  great  white 
throne  grow  to  be  seraphims. 

I  sew  on  brown  gingham  dresses  every  afternoon 
when  Emma  Jane  and  the  Simpsons  are  playing 
house  or  running  on  the  Logs  when  their  mothers 
do  not  know  it.  Their  mothers  are  afraid  they  will 
drown  and  Aunt  M.  is  afraid  I  will  wet  my  clothes 
so  will  not  let  me  either.  I  can  play  from  half  past 
four  to  supper  and  after  supper  a  little  bit  and  Satur 
day  afternoons.  I  am  glad  our  cow  has  a  calf  and  it 
is  spotted.  It  is  going  to  be  a  good  year  for  apples 
and  hay  so  you  and  John  will  be  glad  and  we  can 
pay  a  little  more  morgage.  Miss  Dearborn  asked  us 
what  is  the  object  of  edducation  and  I  said  the  object 
of  mine  was  to  help  pay  off  the  morgage.  She  told 
Aunt  M.  and  I  had  to  sew  extra  for  punishment  be 
cause  she  says  a  morgage  is  disgrace  like  stealing 
or  smallpox  and  it  will  be  all  over  town  that  we  have 
one  on  our  farm.  Emma  Jane  is  not  morgaged  nor 
Richard  Carter  nor  Dr.  Winship  but  the  Simpsons 
are. 


48  REBECCA 

Rise  my  soul,  strain  every  nerve, 
Thy  morgage  to  remove, 
Gain  thy  mother's  heartfelt  thanks 
Thy  family's  grateful  love. 

Pronounce  family  quick  or  it  won't  sound  right 
Your  loving  little  friend 

REBECCA, 


DEAR  JOHN,  —  You  remember  when  we  tide  the 
new  dog  in  the  barn  how  he  bit  the  rope  and 
howled.  I  am  just  like  him  only  the  brick  house  is 
the  barn  and  I  can  not  bite  Aunt  M.  because  I 
must  be  grateful  and  edducation  is  going  to  be  the 
making  of  me  and  help  you  pay  off  the  morgage 
vhen  we  grow  up.  Your  loving 

BECKY. 


V 

WISDOM'S  WAYS 

THE  day  of  Rebecca's  arrival  had  been 
Friday,  and  on  the  Monday  following  she 
began  her  education  at  the  school  which 
was  in  Riverboro  Centre,  about  a  mile  distant. 
Miss  Sawyer  borrowed  a  neighbor's  horse  and 
wagon  and  drove  her  to  the  schoolhouse,  interview 
ing  the  teacher,  Miss  Dearborn,  arranging  for  books, 
and  generally  starting  the  child  on  the  path  that 
was  to  lead  to  boundless  knowledge.  Miss  Dear 
born,  it  may  be  said  in  passing,  had  had  no  special 
preparation  in  the  art  of  teaching.  It  came  to  her 
naturally,  so  her  family  said,  and  perhaps  for  this 
reason  she,  like  Tom  Tulliver's  clergyman  tutor, 
"  set  about  it  with  that  uniformity  of  method  and 
independence  of  circumstances  which  distinguish  the 
actions  of  animals  understood  to  be  under  the  im 
mediate  teaching  of  Nature."  You  remember  the 
beaver  which  a  naturalist  tells  us  "  busied  himself 
as  earnestly  in  constructing  a  dam  in  a  room  up 
three  pair  of  stairs  in  London  as  if  he  had  been  lay 
ing  his  foundation  in  a  lake  in  Upper  Canada.  It 
was  his  function  to  build,  the  absence  of  water  or  of 
possible  progeny  was  an  accident  for  which  he  was 
not  accountable."  In  the  same  manner  did  Miss 


50  REBECCA 

Dearborn  lay  what  she  fondly  imagined  to  be  foun« 
dations  in  the  infant  mind. 

Rebecca  walked  to  school  after  the  first  morning. 
She  loved  this  part  of  the  day's  programme.  When 
the  dew  was  not  too  heavy  and  the  weather  was  fail- 
there  was  a  short  cut  through  the  woods.  She  turned 
off  the  main  road,  crept  through  uncle  Josh  Wood 
man's  bars,  waved  away  Mrs.  Carter's  cows,  trod  the 
short  grass  of  the  pasture,  with  its  well-worn  path 
running  through  gardens  of  buttercups  and  white- 
weed,  and  groves  of  ivory  leaves  and  sweet  fern. 
She  descended  a  little  hill,  jumped  from  stone  to 
stone  across  a  woodland  brook,  startling  the  drowsy 
frogs,  who  were  always  winking  and  blinking  in  the 
morning  sun.  Then  came  the  "  woodsy  bit,"  with 
her  feet  pressing  the  slippery  carpet  of  brown  pine 
needles  ;  the  "  woodsy  bit  "  so  full  of  dewy  morning 
surprises,  —  fungous  growths  of  brilliant  orange  and 
crimson  springing  up  around  the  stumps  of  dead 
trees,  beautiful  things  born  in  a  single  night ;  and 
now  and  then  the  miracle  of  a  little  clump  of  waxen 
Indian  pipes,  seen  just  quickly  enough  to  be  saved 
from  her  careless  tread.  Then  she  climbed  a  stile, 
went  through  a  grassy  meadow,  slid  under  another 
pair  of  bars,  and  came  out  into  the  road  again,  hav 
ing  gained  nearly  half  a  mile. 

How  delicious  it  all  was !  Rebecca  clasped  her 
Quackenbos's  Grammar  and  Greenleaf's  Arithmetic 
with  a  joyful  sense  of  knowing  her  lessons.  Her 


REBECCA  5i 

dinner  pail  swung  from  her  right  hand,  and  she 
had  a  blissful  consciousness  of  the  two  soda  biscuits 
spread  with  butter  and  syrup,  the  baked  cup-custard, 
the  doughnut,  and  the  square  of  hard  gingerbread. 
Sometimes  she  said  whatever  "  piece  "  she  was  going 
to  speak  on  the  next  Friday  afternoon. 

"  A  soldier  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers, 
There  was  lack    of    woman's    nursing,    there    was    dearth  of 
woman's  tears." 

How  she  loved  the  swing  and  the  sentiment  of  it ! 
How  her  young  voice  quivered  whenever  she  came  to 
the  refrain  :  — 

"  But  we  '11  meet  no  more  at  Bingen,  dear  Bingen  on  the  Rhine." 

It  always  sounded  beautiful  in  her  ears,  as  she 
sent  her  tearful  little  treble  into  the  clear  morning 
air.  Another  early  favorite  (for  we  must  remember 
that  Rebecca's  only  knowledge  of  the  great  world 
of  poetry  consisted  of  the  selections  in  vogue  in 
school  readers)  was  :  — 

"  Woodman,  spare  that  tree! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough  I 
In  youth  it  sheltered  me, 
And  I  '11  protect  it  now." 

When  Emma  Jane  Perkins  walked  through  the 
"  short  cut  "  with  her,  the  two  children  used  to  ren 
der  this  with  appropriate  dramatic  action.  Emma 
Jane  always  chose  to  be  the  woodman  because  she 
had  nothing  to  do  but  raise  on  high  an  imaginary 


52  REBECCA 

axe.  On  the  one  occasion  when  she  essayed  the 
part  of  the  tree's  romantic  protector,  she  represented 
herself  as  feeling  "  so  awful  foolish "  that  she 
refused  to  undertake  it  again,  much  to  the  secret 
delight  of  Rebecca,  who  found  the  woodman's  role 
much  too  tame  for  her  vaulting  ambition.  She 
reveled  in  the  impassioned  appeal  of  the  poet,  and 
implored  the  ruthless  woodman  to  be  as  brutal  as 
possible  with  the  axe,  so  that  she  might  properly 
put  greater  spirit  into  her  lines.  One  morning,  feel 
ing  more  frisky  than  usual,  she  fell  upon  her  knees 
and  wept  in  the  woodman's  petticoat.  Curiously 
enough,  her  sense  of  proportion  rejected  this  as 
soon  as  it  was  done. 

"  That  was  n't  right,  it  was  silly,  Emma  Jane  ;  but 
I  '11  tell  you  where  it  might  come  in  —  in  Give  me 
Three  Grains  of  Corn.  You  be  the  mother,  and 
I  '11  be  the  famishing  Irish  child.  For  pity's  sake 
put  the  axe  down ;  you  are  not  the  woodman  any 
longer !  " 

"  What  '11  I  do  with  my  hands,  then  ? "  asked 
Emma  Jane. 

"  Whatever  you  like,"  Rebecca  answered  wearily ; 
"you're  just  a  mother  —  that's  all.  What  does 
your  mother  do  with  her  hands?  Now  here 
goes ! 

"  ( Give  me  three  grains  of  corn,  mother, 

Only  three  grains  of  corn, 
*T  will  keep  the  little  life  I  have 
Till  the  coming  of  the  morn.'  " 


REBECCA  53 

This  sort  of  thing  made  Emma  Jane  nervous  and 
fidgety,  but  she  was  Rebecca's  slave  and  hugged  her 
chains,  no  matter  how  uncomfortable  they  made  her. 

At  the  last  pair  of  bars  the  two  girls  were  some- 
times  met  by  a  detachment  of  the  Simpson  chil 
dren,  who  lived  in  a  black  house  with  a  red  door  and 
a  red  barn  behind,  on  the  Blueberry  Plains  road. 
Rebecca  felt  an  interest  in  the  Simpsons  from  the 
first,  because  there  were  so  many  of  them  and  they 
were  so  patched  and  darned,  just  like  her  own  brood 
at  the  home  farm. 

The  little  schoolhouse  with  its  flagpole  on  top  and 
its  two  doors  in  front,  one  for  boys  and  the  other 
for  girls,  stood  on  the  crest  of  a  hill,  with  rolling 
fields  and  meadows  on  one  side,  a  stretch  of  pine 
woods  on  the  other,  and  the  river  glinting  and 
sparkling  in  the  distance.  It  boasted  no  attractions 
within.  All  was  as  bare  and  ugly  and  uncomfortable 
as  it  well  could  be,  for  the  villages  along  the  river  ex 
pended  so  much  money  in  repairing  and  rebuilding 
bridges  that  they  were  obliged  to  be  very  economical 
in  school  privileges.  The  teacher's  desk  and  chair 
stood  on  a  platform  in  one  corner ;  there  was  ar 
uncouth  stove,  never  blackened  oftener  than  once 
a  year,  a  map  of  the  United  States,  two  blackboards, 
a  ten-quart  tin  pail  of  water  and  long-handled  dipper 
on  a  corner  shelf,  and  wooden  desks  and  benches 
for  the  scholars,  who  only  numbered  twenty  in  Re 
becca's  time.  The  seats  were  higher  in  the  back  of 


54  REBECCA 

the  room,  and  the  more  advanced  and  longer-legged 
pupils  sat  there,  the  position  being  greatly  to  be 
envied,  as  they  were  at  once  nearer  to  the  windows 
and  farther  from  the  teacher. 

There  were  classes  of  a  sort,  although  nobody, 
broadly  speaking,  studied  the  same  book  with  any 
body  else,  or  had  arrived  at  the  same  degree  of  pro 
ficiency  in  any  one  branch  of  learning.  Rebecca  in 
particular  was  so  difficult  to  classify  that  Miss  Dear 
born  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  gave  up  the  attempt 
altogether.  She  read  with  Dick  Carter  and  Living 
Perkins,  who  were  fitting  for  the  academy  ;  recited 
arithmetic  with  lisping  little  Thuthan  Thimpthon  ; 
geography  with  Emma  Jane  Perkins,  and  grammar 
after  school  hours  to  Miss  Dearborn  alone.  Full  to 
the  brim  as  she  was  of  clever  thoughts  and  quaint 
fancies,  she  made  at  first  but  a  poor  hand  at  compo 
sition.  The  labor  of  writing  and  spelling,  with  the 
added  difficulties  of  punctuation  and  capitals,  inter 
fered  sadly  with  the  free  expression  of  ideas.  She 
took  history  with  Alice  Robinson's  class,  which 
was  attacking  the  subject  of  the  Revolution,  while 
Rebecca  was  bidden  to  begin  with  the  discov 
ery  of  America.  In  a  week  she  had  mastered 
the  course  of  events  up  to  the  Revolution,  and  in 
ten  days  had  arrived  at  Yorktown,  where  the  class 
had  apparently  established  summer  quarters.  Then 
finding  that  extra  effort  would  only  result  in  her 
reciting  with  the  oldest  Simpson  boy,  she  delib 


REBECCA  55 

erately  held  herself  back,  for  wisdom's  ways  were 
not  those  of  pleasantness  nor  her  paths  those  of 
peace  if  one  were  compelled  to  tread  them  in  the 
company  of  Seesaw  Simpson.  I  Samuel  Simpson  was 
generally  called  Seesaw,  because  of  his  difficulty  in 
making  up  his  mind.  Whether  it  were  a  question 
of  fact,  of  spelling,  or  of  date,  of  going  swimming 
or  fishing,  of  choosing  a  book  in  the  Sunday-school 
library  or  a  stick  of  candy  at  the  village  store,  he 
had  no  sooner  determined  on  one  plan  of  action 
than  his  wish  fondly  reverted  to  the  opposite  one. 
Seesaw  was  pale,  flaxen  haired,  blue  eyed,  round 
shouldered,  and  given  to  stammering  when  nervous. 
Perhaps  because  of  his  very  weakness  Rebecca's 
decision  of  character  had  a  fascination  for  him,  and 
although  she  snubbed  him  to  the  verge  of  madness, 
he  could  never  keep  his  eyes  away  from  her.  The 
force  with  which  she  tied  her  shoe  when  the  lacing 
came  undone,  the  flirt  over  shoulder  she  gave  her 
black  braid  when  she  was  excited  or  warm,  her 
manner  of  studying,  —  book  on  desk,  arms  folded, 
eyes  fixed  on  the  opposite  wall,  —  all  had  an  abiding 
charm  for  Seesaw  Simpson.  When,  having  obtained 
permission,  she  walked  to  the  water  pail  in  the 
corner  and  drank  from  the  dipper,  unseen  forces 
dragged  Seesaw  from  his  seat  to  go  and  drink  after 
her.  It  was  not  only  that  there  was  something  akin 
to  association  and  intimacy  in  drinking  next,  but 
there  was  the  fearful  joy  of  meeting  her  in  transit 


56  REBECCA 

and  receiving  a  cold  and  disdainful  look  from  hei 
wonderful  eyes. 

On  a  certain  warm  day  in  summer  Rebecca's 
thirst  exceeded  the  bounds  of  propriety.  When  she 
asked  a  third  time  for  permission  to  quench  it  at  the 
common  fountain  Miss  Dearborn  nodded  "yes,"  but 
lifted  her  eyebrows  unpleasantly  as  Rebecca  neared 
the  desk.  As  she  replaced  the  dipper  Seesaw 
promptly  raised  his  hand,  and  Miss  Dearborn  indi 
cated  a  weary  affirmative. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Rebecca?"  she 
asked. 

"I  had  salt  mackerel  for  breakfast/'  answered 
Rebecca. 

There  seemed  nothing  humorous  about  this  reply, 
which  was  merely  the  statement  of  a  fact,  but  an 
irrepressible  titter  ran  through  the  school.  Miss 
Dearborn  did  not  enjoy  jokes  neither  made  nor 
understood  by  herself,  and  her  face  flushed. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  stand  by  the  pail  for  five 
minutes,  Rebecca ;  it  may  help  you  to  control  your 
thirst." 

Rebecca's  heart  fluttered.  She  to  stand  in  the 
corner  by  the  water  pail  and  be  stared  at  by  all 
the  scholars!  She  unconsciously  made  a  gesture 
of  angry  dissent  and  moved  a  step  nearer  her  seat, 
but  was  arrested  by  Miss  Dearborn's  command  in 
a  still  firmer  voice. 

"  Stand  by  the  pail,  Rebecca !  Samuel,  how  many 
times  have  you  asked  for  water  to-day  ? " 


REBECCA  57 

"This  is  the  f-f-f ourth. " 

"  Don't  touch  the  dipper,  please.  The  school  has 
done  nothing  but  drink  this  afternoon ;  it  has  had 
no  time  whatever  to  study.  I  suppose  you  had  some 
thing  salt  for  breakfast,  Samuel  ? "  queried  Miss 
Dearborn  with  sarcasm. 

'•  I  had  m-m-mackerel,  j-just  like  Reb-b-becca." 
(Irrepressible  giggles  by  the  school.) 

"  I  judged  so.  Stand  by  the  other  side  of  the  pail, 
Samuel." 

Rebecca's  head  was  bowed  with  shame  and  wrath. 
Life  looked  too  black  a  thing  to  be  endured.  The 
punishment  was  bad  enough,  but  to  be  coupled  in 
correction  with  Seesaw  Simpson  was  beyond  human 
endurance^ 

Singing  was  the  last  exercise  in  the  afternoon, 
and  Minnie  Smellie  chose  Shall  we  Gather  at  the 
River  ?  It  was  a  baleful  choice  and  seemed  to  hold 
some  secret  and  subtle  association  with  the  situation 
and  general  progress  of  events  ;  or  at  any  rate  there 
was  apparently  some  obscure  reason  for  the  energy 
and  vim  with  which  the  scholars  shouted  the  choral 
invitation  again  and  again  :  — 

**  Shall  we  gather  at  the  river, 
The  beautiful,  the  beautiful  river  ? " 

Miss  Dearborn  stole  a  look  at  Rebecca's  bent  head 
and  was  frightened.  The  child's  face  was  pale  save 
for  two  red  spots  glowing  on  her  cheeks.  Tears 


58  REBECCA 

hung  on  her  lashes ;  her  breath  came  and  went 
quickly,  and  the  hand  that  held  her  pocket  hand 
kerchief  trembled  like  a  leaf. 

"You  may  go  to  your  seat,  Rebecca,"  said  Miss 
Dearborn  at  the  end  of  the  first  song.  "  Samuel, 
stay  where  you  are  till  the  close  of  school.  And  let 
me  tell  you,  scholars,  that  I  asked  Rebecca  to  stand 
by  the  pail  only  to  break  up  this  habit  of  incessant 
drinking,  which  is  nothing  but  empty-mindedness 
and  desire  to  walk  to  and  fro  over  the  floor.  Every 
time  Rebecca  has  asked  for  a  drink  to-day  the  whole 
school  has  gone  to  the  pail  one  after  another.  She 
is  really  thirsty,  and  I  dare  say  I  ought  to  have 
punished  you  for  following  her  example,  not  her  for 
setting  it.  What  shall  we  sing  now,  Alice  ?  " 

"The  Old  Oaken  Bucket,  please." 

"  Think  of  something  dry,  Alice,  and  change  the 
subject.  Yes,  The  Star  Spangled  Banner  if  you 
like,  or  anything  else." 

Rebecca  sank  into  her  seat  and  pulled  the  singing- 
book  from  her  desk.  Miss  Dearborn's  public  expla 
nation  had  shifted  some  of  the  weight  from  her 
heart,  and  she  felt  a  trifle  raised  in  her  self-esteem. 

Under  cover  of  the  general  relaxation  of  singing, 
votive  offerings  of  respectful  sympathy  began  to 
make  their  appearance  at  her  shrine.  Living  Per 
kins,  who  could  not  sing,  dropped  a  piece  of  maple 
sugar  in  her  lap  as  he  passed  her  on  his  way  to  the 
blackboard  to  draw  the  map  of  Maine.  Alice  Rob- 


REBECCA  59 

inson  rolled  a  perfectly  new  slate  pencil  over  the 
floor  with  her  foot  until  it  reached  Rebecca's  place, 
while  her  seat-mate,  Emma  Jane,  had  made  up  a 
little  mound  of  paper  balls  and  labeled  them  "  Bul 
lets  for  you  know  who." 

Altogether  existence  grew  brighter,  and  when 
she  was  left  alone  with  the  teacher  for  her  grammar 
lesson  she  had  nearly  recovered  her  equanimity, 
which  was  more  than  Miss  Dearborn  had  The  last 
clattering  foot  had  echoed  through  the  hall,  See 
saw's  backward  glance  of  penitence  had  been  met 
and  answered  defiantly  by  one  of  cold  disdain. 

"Rebecca,  I  am  afraid  I  punished  you  more  than  I 
meant,"  said  Miss  Dearborn,  who  was  only  eighteen 
herself,  and  in  her  year  of  teaching  country  schools 
had  never  encountered  a  child  like  Rebecca. 

"  I  had  n't  missed  a  question  this  whole  day,  nor 
whispered  either,"  quavered  the  culprit ;  "and  I  don't 
think  I  ought  to  be  shamed  just  for  drinking." 

"  You  started  all  the  others,  or  it  seemed  as  if 
you  did.  Whatever  you  do  they  all  do,  whether  you 
laugh,  or  miss,  or  write  notes,  or  ask  to  leave  the 
room,  or  drink ;  and  it  must  be  stopped." 

"  Sam  Simpson  is  a  copycoat ! "  stormed  Rebecca. 
"I  wouldn't  have  minded  standing  in  the  corner 
alone  —  that  is,  not  so  very  much  ;  but  I  could  n't 
bear  standing  with  him." 

"  I  saw  that  you  could  n't,  and  that 's  the  reason 
I  told  you  to  take  your  seat,  and  left  him  in  the 


60  REBECCA 

corner.  Remember  that  you  are  a  stranger  in  the 
place,  and  they  take  more  notice  of  what  you  do, 
so  you  must  be  careful.  Now  let 's  have  our  conju 
gations.  Give  me  the  verb  '  to  be,'  potential  mood, 
past  perfect  tense." 

"  I  might  have  been  "  We  might  have  been 

Thou  mightst  have  been  You  might  have  been 

He  might  have  been  They  might  have  been." 

"Give  me  an  example,  please." 

"  I  might  have  been  glad 
Thou  mightst  have  been  glad 
He,  she,  or  it  might  have  been  glad." 

" '  He '  or  '  she  '  might  have  been  glad  because 
they  are  masculine  and  feminine,  but  could  'it* 
have  been  glad?"  asked  Miss  Dearborn,  who  was 
very  fond  of  splitting  hairs. 

"Why  not  ?  "  asked  Rebecca. 

"Because  'it'  is  neuter  gender." 

"  Could  n't  we  say,  '  The  kitten  might  have 
been  glad  if  it  had  known  it  was  not  going  to  be 
drowned'?" 

"  Ye— es,"  Miss  Dearborn  answered  hesitatingly, 
never  very  sure  of  herself  under  Rebecca's  fire  ; 
"  but  though  we  often  speak  of  a  baby,  a  chicken,  or 
a  kitten  as  'it,'  they  are  really  masculine  or  feminine 
gender,  not  neuter." 

Rebecca  reflected  a  long  moment  and  then  asked, 
*  Is  a  hollyhock  neuter  ?  " 


REBECCA  61 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course  it  is,  Rebecca." 

"  Well,  could  n't  we  say,  '  The  hollyhock  might 
have  been  glad  to  see  the  rain,  but  there  was  a  weak 
little  hollyhock  bud  growing  out  of  its  stalk  and  it 
was  afraid  that  that  might  be  hurt  by  the  storm  ; 
so  the  big  hollyhock  was  kind  of  afraid,  instead  of 
being  real  glad  '  ?  " 

Miss  Dearborn  looked  puzzled  as  she  answered, 
"  Of  course,  Rebecca,  hollyhocks  could  not  be 
sorry,  or  glad,  or  afraid,  really." 

"  We  can't  tell,  I  s'pose,"  replied  the  child  ;  "but 
/  think  they  are,  anyway.  Now  what  shall  I  say  ?  " 

"The  subjunctive  mood,  past  perfect  tense  of 
the  verb  '  to  know.'  " 

"  If  I  had  known  "  If  we  had  known 

If  thou  hadst  known  If  you  had  known 

If  he  had  known  If  they  had  known. 

"Oh,  it  is  the  saddest  tense,"  sighed  Rebecca 
with  a  little  break  in  her  voice  ;  "  nothing  but  ifst 
ifs,  ifs  !  And  it  makes  you  feel  that  if  they  only 
had  known,  things  might  have  been  better !  " 

Miss  Dearborn  had  not  thought  of  it  before, 
but  on  reflection  she  believed  the  subjunctive  mood 
was  a  "sad  "  one  and  "if"  rather  a  sorry  "part  of 
speech," 

"  Give  me  some  more  examples  of  the  subjunctive, 
Rebecca,  and  that  will  do  for  this  afternoon,"  she 
said. 

"  If  I  had  not  loved  mackerel  I  should  not  have 


63  REBECCA 

been  thirsty ; "  said  Rebecca  with  an  April  smile, 
as  she  closed  her  grammar.  "  If  thou  hadst  loved 
me  truly  thou  wouldst  not  have  stood  me  up  in  the 
corner.  If  Samuel  had  not  loved  wickedness  he 
would  not  have  followed  me  to  the  water  pail." 

"And  if  Rebecca  had  loved  the  rules  of  the 
school  she  would  have  controlled  her  thirst,"  finished 
Miss  Dearborn  with  a  kiss,  and  the  two  parted 
friends. 


VT 

SUNSHINE  IN   A  SHADY  PLACE 

THE  little  schoolhouse  on  the  hill  had  its 
moments  of  triumph  as  well  as  its  scenes 
of  tribulation,  but  it  was  fortunate  that 
Rebecca  had  her  books  and  her  new  acquaintances 
to  keep  her  interested  and  occupied,  or  life  would 
have  gone  heavily  with  her  that  first  summer  in 
Riverboro.  She  tried  to  like  her  aunt  Miranda  (the 
idea  of  loving  her  had  been  given  up  at  the  moment 
of  meeting),  but  failed  ignominiously  in  the  attempt. 
She  was  a  very  faulty  and  passionately  human  child, 
with  no  aspirations  towards  being  an  angel  of  the 
house,  but  she  had  a  sense  of  duty  and  a  desire  to 
be  good,  —  respectably,  decently  good.  Whenever 
she  fell  below  this  self-imposed  standard  she  was 
miserable.  She  did  not  like  to  be  under  her  aunt's 
roof,  eating  bread,  wearing  clothes,  and  studying 
books  provided  by  her,  and  dislike  her  so  heartily 
all  the  time.  She  felt  instinctively  that  this  was 
wrong  and  mean,  and  whenever  the  feeling  of  re 
morse  was  strong  within  her  she  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  please  her  grim  and  difficult  relative.  But 
how  could  she  succeed  when  she  was  never  herself  in 
her  aunt  Miranda's  presence  ?  The  searching  look 
of  the  eyes,  the  sharp  voice,  the  hard  knotty  fingers, 


64  REBECCA 

the  thin  straight  lips,  the  long  silences,  the  "front- 
piece  "  that  did  n't  match  her  hair,  the  very  obvious 
"  parting  "  that  seemed  sewed  in  with  linen  thread  on 
black  net, — there  was  not  a  single  item  that  appealed 
to  Rebecca.  There  are  certain  narrow,  unimagina 
tive,  and  autocratic  old  people  who  seem  to  call  out 
the  most  mischievous,  and  sometimes  the  worst 
traits  in  children.  Miss  Miranda,  had  she  lived  in  a 
populous  neighborhood,  would  have  had  her  doorbell 
pulled,  her  gate  tied  up,  or  "  dirt  traps  "  set  in  her 
garden  paths.  The  Simpson  twins  stood  in  such 
awe  of  her  that  they  could  not  be  persuaded  to  come 
to  the  side  door  even  when  Miss  Jane  held  ginger 
bread  cookies  in  her  outstretched  hands. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Rebecca  irritated  her 
aunt  with  every  breath  she  drew.  She  continually 
forgot  and  started  up  the  front  stairs  because  it  was 
the  shortest  route  to  her  bedroom ;  she  left  the 
dipper  on  the  kitchen  shelf  instead  of  hanging  it  up 
over  the  pail ;  she  sat  in  the  chair  the  cat  liked  best ; 
she  was  willing  to  go  on  errands,  but  often  forgot 
what  she  was  sent  for;  she  left  the  screen  doors 
ajar,  so  that  flies  came  in  ;  her  tongue  was  ever  in 
motion  ;  she  sang  or  whistled  when  she  was  picking 
up  chips ;  she  was  always  messing  with  flowers, 
putting  them  in  vases,  pinning  them  on  her  dress, 
and  sticking  them  in  her  hat ;  finally  she  was  an 
everlasting  reminder  of  her  foolish,  worthless  father, 
whose  handsome  face  and  engaging  manner  had 


REBECCA  65 

so  deceived  Aurelia,  and  perhaps,  if  the  facts  were 
known,  others  besides  Aurelia.  The  Randalls  were 
aliens.  They  had  not  been  born  in  Riverboro  nor 
even  in  York  County.  Miranda  would  have  allowed, 
on  compulsion,  that  in  the  nature  of  things  a  large 
number  of  persons  must  necessarily  be  born  outside 
this  sacred  precinct;  but  she  had  her  opinion  of 
them,  and  it  was  not  a  flattering  one.  Now  if  Hannah 
had  come  —  Hannah  took  after  the  other  side  of  the 
house ;  she  was  "all  Sawyer."  (Poor  Hannah  !  that 
was  true !)  Hannah  spoke  only  when  spoken  to,  in 
stead  of  first,  last,  and  all  the  time  ;  Hannah  at  four 
teen  was  a  member  of  the  church  ;  Hannah  liked  to 
knit ;  Hannah  was,  probably,  or  would  have  been,  a 
pattern  of  all  the  smaller  virtues ;  instead  of  which 
here  was  this  black-haired  gypsy,  with  eyes  as  big 
as  cartwheels,  installed  as  a  member  of  the  house 
hold. 

What  sunshine  in  a  shady  place  was  aunt  Jane 
to  Rebecca !  Aunt  Jane  with  her  quiet  voice,  her 
understanding  eyes,  her  ready  excuses,  in  these  first 
difficult  weeks,  when  the  impulsive  little  stranger 
was  trying  to  settle  down  into  the  "brick  house 
ways."  She  did  learn  them,  in  part,  and  by  degrees, 
and  the  constant  fitting  of  herself  to  these  new  and 
difficult  standards  of  conduct  seemed  to  make  her 
older  than  ever  for  her  years. 

The  child  took  her  sewing  and  sat  beside  aunt 
Jane  in  the  kitchen  while  aunt  Miranda  had  the  post 


66  REBECCA 

of  observation  at  the  sitting-room  window.  Some 
times  they  would  work  on  the  side  porch  where  the 
clematis  and  woodbine  shaded  them  from  the  hot 
sun.  To  Rebecca  the  lengths  of  brown  gingham 
were  interminable.  She  made  hard  work  of  sewing, 
broke  the  thread,  dropped  her  thimble  into  the 
syringa  bushes,  pricked  her  finger,  wiped  the  per 
spiration  from  her  forehead,  could  not  match  the 
checks,  puckered  the  seams.  She  polished  her  nee 
dles  to  nothing,  pushing  them  in  and  out  of  the  emery 
strawberry,  but  they  always  squeaked.  Still  aunt 
Jane's  patience  held  good,  and  some  small  measure 
of  skill  was  creeping  into  Rebecca's  fingers,  fingers 
that  held  pencil,  paint  brush,  and  pen  so  cleverly  and 
were  so  clumsy  with  the  dainty  little  needle. 

When  the  first  brown  gingham  frock  was  com 
pleted,  the  child  seized  what  she  thought  an  oppor 
tune  moment  and  asked  her  aunt  Miranda  if  she 
might  have  another  color  for  the  next  one. 

"I  bought  a  whole  piece  of  the  brown,"  said 
Miranda  laconically.  "  That  '11  give  you  two  more 
dresses,  with  plenty  for  new  sleeves,  and  to  patch 
and  let  down  with,  an'  be  more  economical." 

"  I  know.  But  Mr.  Watson  says  he  '11  take  back 
part  of  it,  and  let  us  have  pink  and  blue  for  the 
same  price." 

"  Did  you  ask  him  ? " 

"  Yes'rn." 

"  It  was  none  o'  your  business." 


REBECCA  67 

"  I  was  helping  Emma  Jane  choose  aprons,  and 
did  n't  think  you  'd  mind  which  color  I  had.  Pink 
keeps  clean  just  as  nice  as  brown,  and  Mr.  Watson 
says  it'll  boil  without  fading." 

"  Mr.  Watson  's  a  splendid  judge  of  washing,  I 
guess.  I  don't  approve  of  children  being  rigged 
out  in  fancy  colors,  but  I  '11  see  what  your  aunt 
Jane  thinks." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  all  right  to  let  Rebecca 
have  one  pink  and  one  blue  gingham,"  said  Jane. 
"  A  child  gets  tired  of  sewing  on  one  color.  It 's 
only  natural  she  should  long  for  a  change ;  besides 
she  'd  look  like  a  charity  child  always  wearing  the 
same  brown  with  a  white  apron.  And  it 's  dread 
ful  unbecoming  to  her  !  " 

"'  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does,'  say  I.  Re 
becca  never  '11  come  to  grief  along  of  her  beauty, 
that 's  certain,  and  there  's  no  use  in  humoring  her 
to  think  about  her  looks.  I  believe  she  's  vain  as  a 
peacock  now,  without  anything  to  be  vain  of.'* 

"  She  's  young  and  attracted  to  bright  things  — • 
that 's  all.  I  remember  well  enough  how  I  felt  at  her 
age." 

"  You  was  considerable  of  a  fool  at  her  age, 
Jane." 

"  Yes,  I  was,  thank  the  Lord  !  I  only  wish  I  'd 
known  how  to  take  a  little  of  my  foolishness  along 
with  me,  as  some  folks  do,  to  brighten  my  declining 
years." 


68  REBECCA 

There  finally  was  a  pink  gingham,  and  when  it  was 
nicely  finished,  aunt  Jane  gave  Rebecca  a  delightful 
surprise.  She  showed  her  how  to  make  a  pretty 
trimming  of  narrow  white  linen  tape,  by  folding  it 
in  pointed  shapes  and  sewing  it  down  very  flat  with 
neat  little  stitches. 

"  It'll  be  good  fancy  work  for  you,  Rebecca ;  for 
your  aunt  Miranda  won't  like  to  see  you  always 
reading  in  the  long  winter  evenings.  Now  if  you 
think  you  can  baste  two  rows  of  white  tape  round 
the  bottom  of  your  pink  skirt  and  keep  it  straight 
by  the  checks,  I  '11  stitch  them  on  for  you  and  trim 
the  waist  and  sleeves  with  pointed  tape-trimming, 
so  the  dress  '11  be  real  pretty  for  second  best." 

Rebecca's  joy  knew  no  bounds.  "  I  '11  baste 
like  a  house  afire !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 's  a  thou 
sand  yards  round  that  skirt,  as  well  I  know,  having 
hemmed  it ;  but  I  could  sew  pretty  trimming  on  if 
it  was  from  here  to  Milltown,,  Oh !  do  you  think 
aunt  Mirandy  '11  ever  let  me  go  to  Milltown  with 
Mr.  Cobb?  He  's  asked  me  again,  you  know  ;  but 
one  Saturday  I  had  to  pick  strawberries,  and  another 
it  rained,  and  I  don't  think  she  really  approves  of 
my  going.  It 's  twenty-nine  minutes  past  four,  aunt 
Jane,  and  Alice  Robinson  has  been  sitting  under 
the  currant  bushes  for  a  long  time  waiting  for  me. 
Can  I  go  and  play  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  may  go,  and  you  'd  better  run  as  far  as 
you  can  out  behind  the  barn,  so  't  your  noise  won't 


REBECCA  69 

distract  your  aunt  Mirandy.  I  see  Susan  Simpson 
and  the  twins  and  Emma  Jane  Perkins  hiding  be 
hind  the  fence." 

Rebecca  leaped  off  the  porch,  snatched  Alice 
Robinson  from  under  the  currant  bushes,  and, 
what  was  much  more  difficult,  succeeded,  by  means 
of  a  complicated  system  of  signals,  in  getting  Emma 
Jane  away  from  the  Simpson  party  and  giving  them 
the  slip  altogether.  They  were  much  too  small  for 
certain  pleasurable  activities  planned  for  that  after 
noon  ;  but  they  were  not  to  be  despised,  for  they 
had  the  most  fascinating  dooryard  in  the  village.  In 
it,  in  bewildering  confusion,  were  old  sleighs,  pungs, 
horse  rakes,  hogsheads,  settees  without  backs,  bed 
steads  without  heads,  in  all  stages  of  disability,  and 
never  the  same  on  two  consecutive  days.  Mrs. 
Simpson  was  seldom  at  home,  and  even  when  she 
was,  had  little  concern  as  to  what  happened  on  the 
premises.  A  favorite  diversion  was  to  make  the 
house  into  a  fort,  gallantly  held  by  a  handful  of 
American  soldiers  against  a  besieging  force  of  the 
British  army.  Great  care  was  used  in  apportioning 
the  parts,  for  there  was  no  disposition  to  let  any 
body  win  but  the  Americans.  Seesaw  Simpson 
was  usually  made  commander-in-chief  of  the  British 
army,  and  a  limp  and  uncertain  one  he  was,  capa 
ble,  with  his  contradictory  orders  and  his  fondness 
for  the  extreme  rear,  of  leading  any  regiment  to 
an  inglorious  death.  Sometimes  the  long-suffering 


70  REBECCA 

house  was  a  log  hut,  and  the  brave  settlers  defeated 
a  band  of  hostile  Indians,  or  occasionally  were  mas 
sacred  by  them;  but  in  either  case  the  Simpson 
house  looked,  to  quote  a  Riverboro  expression,  "as 
if  the  devil  had  been  having  an  auction  in  it." 

Next  to  this  uncommonly  interesting  playground, 
as  a  field  of  action,  came,  in  the  children's  opin 
ion,  the  "  secret  spot."  There  was  a  velvety  stretch 
of  ground  in  the  Sawyer  pasture  which  was  full  of 
fascinating  hollows  and  hillocks,  as  well  as  verdant 
levels,  on  which  to  build  houses.  A  group  of  trees 
concealed  it  somewhat  from  view  and  flung  a  grate 
ful  shade  over  the  dwellings  erected  there.  It  had 
been  hard  though  sweet  labor  to  take  armfuls  of 
"stickins"  and  "cutrounds"  from  the  mill  to  this 
secluded  spot,  and  that  it  had  been  done  mostly 
after  supper  in  the  dusk  of  the  evenings  gave  it 
a  still  greater  flavor.  Here  in  soap  boxes  hidden 
among  the  trees  were  stored  all  their  treasures : 
wee  baskets  and  plates  and  cups  made  of  burdock 
balls,  bits  of  broken  china  for  parties,  dolls,  soon 
to  be  outgrown,  but  serving  well  as  characters  in 
all  sorts  of  romances  enacted  there,  —  deaths,  fu 
nerals,  weddings,  christenings.  A  tall,  square  house 
of  stickins  was  to  be  built  round  Rebecca  this 
afternoon,  and  she  was  to  be  Charlotte  Corday 
leaning  against  the  bars  of  her  prison. 

It  was  a  wonderful  experience  standing  inside  the 
building  with  Emma  Jane's  apron  wound  about  her 


REBECCA  71 

hair ;  wenderful  to  feel  that  when  she  leaned  her 
head  against  the  bars  they  seemed  to  turn  to  cold 
iron ;  that  her  eyes  were  no  longer  Rebecca  Ran 
dall's  but  mirrored  something  of  Charlotte  Corday's 
hapless  woe. 

"  Ain't  it  lovely  ? "  sighed  the  humble  twain,  who 
had  done  most  of  the  labor,  but  who  generously 
admired  the  result. 

"  I  hate  to  have  to  take  it  down,"  said  Alice, 
"it 's  been  such  a  sight  of  work." 

"If  you  think  you  could  move  up  some  stones 
and  just  take  off  the  top  rows,  I  could  step  out 
over,"  suggested  Charlotte  Corday.  "Then  leave 
the  stones,  and  you  two  can  step  down  into  the 
prison  to-morrow  and  be  the  two  little  princes  in 
the  Tower,  and  I  can  murder  you." 

"  What  princes  ?  What  tower  ? "  asked  Alice  and 
Emma  Jane  in  one  breath.  "  Tell  us  about  them." 

"Not  now,  it's  my  supper  time."  (Rebecca  was 
a  somewhat  firm  disciplinarian.) 

"  It  would  be  elergant  being  murdered  by  you," 
said  Emma  Jane  loyally,  "  though  you  are  awful 
real  when  you  murder  ;  or  we  could  have  Elijah  and 
Elisha  for  the  princes." 

"  They'd  yell  when  they  was  murdered,"  objected 
Alice  ;  "  you  know  how  silly  they  are  at  plays,  all 
except  Clara  Belle.  Besides  if  we  once  show  them 
this  secret  place,  they  '11  play  in  it  all  the  time,  and 
perhaps  they  'd  steal  things,  like  their  father." 


72  REBECCA 

"They  needn't  steal  just  because  their  father 
does,"  argued  Rebecca;  "and  don't  you  ever  talk 
about  it  before  them  if  you  want  to  be  my  secret, 
partic'lar  friends.  My  mother  tells  me  never  to  say 
hard  things  about  people's  own  folks  to  their  face. 
She  says  nobody  can  bear  it,  and  it 's  wicked  to  shame 
them  for  what  is  n't  their  fault.  Remember  Minnie 
Smellie ! " 

Well,  they  had  no  difficulty  in  recalling  that 
dramatic  episode,  for  it  had  occurred  only  a  few  days 
before  ;  and  a  version  of  it  that  would  have  melted 
the  stoniest  heart  had  been  presented  to  every  girl 
in  the  village  by  Minnie  Smellie  herself,  who, 
though  it  was  Rebecca  and  not  she  who  came  off 
victorious  in  the  bloody  battle  of  words,  nursed  her 
resentment  and  intended  to  have  revenge. 


VII 

RIVERBORO  SECRETS 

MR.  SIMPSON  spent  little  time  with  his 
family,  owing  to  certain  awkward  meth 
ods  of  horse-trading,  or  the  "  swapping  " 
of  farm  implements  and  vehicles  of  various  kinds, — 
operations  in  which  his  customers  were  never  long 
suited.  After  every  successful  trade  he  generally 
passed  a  longer  or  shorter  term  in  jail ;  for  when  a 
poor  man  without  goods  or  chattels  has  the  invet 
erate  habit  of  swapping,  it  follows  naturally  that  he 
must  have  something  to  swap ;  and  having  nothing 
of  his  own,  it  follows  still  more  naturally  that  he 
must  swap  something  belonging  to  his  neighbors. 

Mr.  Simpson  was  absent  from  the  home  circle 
for  the  moment  because  he  had  exchanged  the 
Widow  Rideout's  sleigh  for  Joseph  Goodwin's 
plough.  Goodwin  had  lately  moved  to  North 
Edgewood  and  had  never  before  met  the  urbane 
and  persuasive  Mr.  Simpson.  The  Goodwin  plough 
Mr.  Simpson  speedily  bartered  with  a  man  "over 
Wareham  way,"  and  got  in  exchange  for  it  an  old 
horse  which  his  owner  did  not  need,  as  he  was  leav 
ing  town  to  visit  his  daughter  for  a  year.  Simp 
son  fattened  the  aged  animal,  keeping  him  for  sev 
eral  weeks  (at  early  morning  or  after  nightfall)  in 


74  REBECCA 

one  neighbor's  pasture  after  another,  and  then  ex 
changed  him  with  a  Milltown  man  for  a  top  buggy. 
It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  Widow  Rideout 
missed  her  sleigh  from  the  old  carriage  house. 
She  had  not  used  it  for  fifteen  years  and  might 
not  sit  in  it  for  another  fifteen,  but  it  was  pro 
perty,  and  she  did  not  intend  to  part  with  it  with 
out  a  struggle.  Such  is  the  suspicious  nature  of 
the  village  mind  that  the  moment  she  discovered 
her  loss  her  thought  at  once  reverted  to  Abner 
Simpson.  So  complicated,  however,  was  the  nature 
of  this  particular  business  transaction,  and  so  tortu 
ous  the  paths  of  its  progress  (partly  owing  to  the 
complete  disappearance  of  the  owner  of  the  horse, 
who  had  gone  to  the  West  and  left  no  address), 
that  it  took  the  sheriff  many  weeks  to  prove  Mr. 
Simpson's  guilt  to  the  town's  and  to  the  Widow 
Rideout's  satisfaction.  Abner  himself  avowed  his 
complete  innocence,  and  told  the  neighbors  how 
a  red-haired  man  with  a  hare  lip  and  a  pepper-and- 
salt  suit  of  clothes  had  called  him  up  one  morning 
about  daylight  and  offered  to  swap  him  a  good 
sleigh  for  an  old  cider  press  he  had  layin'  out  in 
the  dooryard.  The  bargain  was  struck,  and  he, 
Abner,  had  paid  the  hare-lipped  stranger  four  dol 
lars  and  seventy-five  cents  to  boot ;  whereupon  the 
mysterious  one  set  down  the  sleigh,  took  the  press 
on  his  cart,  and  vanished  up  the  road,  never  to  be 
seen  or  heard  from  afterwards. 


REBECCA  75 

"  If  I  could  once  ketch  that  consarned  old  thief," 
exclaimed  Abner  righteously,  "  I  'd  make  him 
dance,  —  workin'  off  a  stolen  sleigh  on  me  an' 
takin'  away  my  good  money  an'  cider  press,  to  say 
nothin'  o'  my  character  !  " 

"  You  '11  never  ketch  him,  Ab,"  responded  the 
sheriff.  "  He  's  cut  off  the  same  piece  o'  goods  as 
that  there  cider  press  and  that  there  character  and 
that  there  four-seventy-five  o'  yourn  ;  nobody  ever 
see  any  of  'em  but  you,  and  you  '11  never  see  'em 
again  !  " 

Mrs.  Simpson,  who  was  decidedly  Abner's  bet 
ter  half,  took  in  washing  and  went  out  to  do  days' 
cleaning,  and  the  town  helped  in  the  feeding  and 
clothing  of  the  children.  George,  a  lanky  boy  of 
fourteen,  did  chores  on  neighboring  farms,  and 
the  others,  Samuel,  Clara  Belle,  Susan,  Elijah,  and 
Elisha,  went  to  school,  when  sufficiently  clothed 
and  not  otherwise  more  pleasantly  engaged. 

There  were  no  secrets  in  the  villages  that  lay 
along  the  banks  of  Pleasant  River.  There  were 
many  hard-working  people  among  the  inhabitants, 
but  life  wore  away  so  quietly  and  slowly  that  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  spare  time  for  conversation,  — 
under  the  trees  at  noon  in  the  hayfield ;  hanging 
over  the  bridge  at  nightfall ;  seated  about  the 
stove  in  the  village  store  of  an  evening.  These 
meeting-places  furnished  ample  ground  for  the  dis- 
cushion  Qi  current  events  as  viewed  by  the  mas* 


76  REBECCA 

culine  eye,  while  choir  rehearsals,  sewing  societies, 
reading  circles,  church  picnics,  and  the  like,  gave 
opportunity  for  the  expression  of  feminine  opinion. 
All  this  was  taken  very  much  for  granted,  as  a 
rule,  but  now  and  then  some  supersensitive  person 
made  violent  objections  to  it,  as  a  theory  of  life. 

Delia  Weeks,  for  example,  was  a  maiden  lady 
who  did  dressmaking  in  a  small  way ;  she  fell  ill, 
and  although  attended  by  all  the  physicians  in 
the  neighborhood,  was  sinking  slowly  into  a  de 
cline  when  her  cousin  Cyrus  asked  her  to  come  and 
keep  house  for  him  in  Lewiston.  She  went,  and  in 
a  year  grew  into  a  robust,  hearty,  cheerful  woman. 
Returning  to  Riverboro  on  a  brief  visit,  she  was 
asked  if  she  meant  to  end  her  days  away  from 
home. 

"  I  do  most  certainly,  if  I  can  get  any  other 
place  to  stay,"  she  responded  candidly.  "I  was 
bein'  worn  to  a  shadder  here,  tryin'  to  keep  my 
little  secrets  to  myself,  an'  never  succeedin'.  First 
they  had  it  I  wanted  to  marry  the  minister,  and 
when  he  took  a  wife  in  Standish  I  was  known  to 
be  disappointed.  Then  for  five  or  six  years  they 
suspicioned  I  was  tryin'  for  a  place  to  teach  school, 
and  when  I  gave  up  hope,  an'  took  to  dressmakin', 
they  pitied  me  and  sympathized  with  me  for  that. 
When  father  died  I  was  bound  I  'd  never  let  any 
body  know  how  I  was  left,  for  that  spites  'em 
worse  than  anything  else ;  but  there 's  ways  o 


REBECCA  77 

findin'  out,  an'  they  found  out,  hard  as  I  fought 
'em  !  Then  there  was  my  brother  James  that  went 
to  Arizona  when  he  was  sixteen.  I  gave  good  news 
of  him  for  thirty  years  runnin',  but  aunt  Achsy 
Tarbox  had  a  ferretin'  cousin  that  went  out  to 
Tombstone  for  her  health,  and  she  wrote  to  a  post 
master,  or  to  some  kind  of  a  town  authority,  and 
found  Jim  and  wrote  back  aunt  Achsy  all  about 
him  and  just  how  unfortunate  he  'd  been.  They 
knew  when  I  had  my  teeth  out  and  a  new  set 
^made;  they  knew  when  I  put  on  a  false  front- 
piece  ;  they  knew  when  the  fruit  peddler  asked 
me  to  be  his  third  wife  —  I  never  told  'em,  an'  you 
can  be  sure  he  never  did,  but  they  don't  need  to  be 
told  in  this  village  ;  they  have  nothin'  to  do  but 
guess,  an'  they  '11  guess  right  every  time.  I  was 
all  tuckered  out  tryin'  to  mislead  'em  and  deceive 
'em  and  sidetrack  'em  ;  but  the  minute  I  got  where 
I  wa'n't  put  under  a  microscope  by  day  an'  a  tele 
scope  by  night  and  had  myself  to  myself  without 
sayin'  '  By  your  leave,'  I  begun  to  pick  up.  Cousin 
Cyrus  is  an  old  man  an'  consid'able  trouble,  but  he 
thinks  my  teeth  are  handsome  an'  says  I  've  got 
a  splendid  suit  of  hair.  There  ain't  a  person  in 
Lewiston  that  knows  about  the  minister,  or  fa 
ther's  will,  or  Jim's  doin's,  or  the  fruit  peddler  ;  an'  if 
they  should  find  out,  they  would  n't  care,  an'  they 
could  n't  remember ;  for  Lewiston  's  a  busy  place, 
thanks  be ! " 


78  REBECCA 

Miss  Delia  Weeks  may  have  exaggerated  mat 
ters  somewhat,  but  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  Re 
becca  as  well  as  all  the  other  Riverboro  children 
had  heard  the  particulars  of  the  Widow  Rideout's 
missing  sleigh  and  Abner  Simpson's  supposed  con 
nection  with  it. 

There  is  not  an  excess  of  delicacy  or  chivalry  in 
the  ordinary  country  school,  and  several  choice  co 
nundrums  and  bits  of  verse  dealing  with  the  Simp 
son  affair  were  bandied  about  among  the  scholars, 
uttered  always,  be  it  said  to  their  credit,  in  under 
tones,  and  when  the  Simpson  children  were  not  in 
the  group. 

Rebecca  Randall  was  of  precisely  the  same  stock, 
and  had  had  much  the  same  associations  as  her 
schoolmates,  so  one  can  hardly  say  why  she  so  hated 
mean  gossip  and  so  instinctively  held  herself  aloof 
from  it. 

Among  the  Riverboro  girls  of  her  own  age  was  a 
certain  excellently  named  Minnie  Smellie,  who  was 
anything  but  a  general  favorite.  She  was  a  ferret- 
eyed,  blond-haired,  spindle-legged  little  creature 
whose  mind  was  a  cross  between  that  of  a  parrot 
and  a  sheep.  She  was  suspected  of  copying  an 
swers  from  other  girls'  slates,  although  she  had 
never  been  caught  in  the  act.  Rebecca  and  Emma 
Jane  always  knew  when  she  had  brought  a  tart  or 
a  triangle  of  layer  cake  with  her  school  luncheon, 
because  on  those  days  she  forsook  the  cheerful 


REBECCA  79 

society  of  her  mates  and  sought  a  safe  solitude  in 
the  woods,  returning  after  a  time  with  a  jocund 
smile  on  her  smug  face. 

After  one  of  these  private  luncheons  Rebecca 
had  been  tempted  beyond  her  strength,  and  when 
Minnie  took  her  seat  among  them  asked,  "  Is  your 
headache  better,  Minnie  ?  Let  me  wipe  off  that 
strawberry  jam  over  your  mouth." 

There  was  no  jam  there  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
but  the  guilty  Minnie's  handkerchief  went  to  her 
crimson  face  in  a  flash. 

Rebecca  confessed  to  Emma  Jane  that  same 
afternoon  that  she  felt  ashamed  of  her  prank.  "  I 
do  hate  her  ways,"  she  exclaimed,  "  but  I  'm  sorry 
I  let  her  know  we  'spected  her;  and  so  to  make 
up,  I  gave  her  that  little  piece  of  broken  coral  I 
keep  in  my  bead  purse  ;  you  know  the  one  ?  " 

"  It  don't  hardly  seem  as  if  she  deserved  that, 
and  her  so  greedy,"  remarked  Emma  Jane. 

"I  know  it,  but  it  makes  me  feel  better,"  said 
Rebecca  largely ;  "  and  then  I  've  had  it  two  years, 
and  it 's  broken  so  it  would  n't  ever  be  any  real 
good,  beautiful  as  it  is  to  look  at." 

The  coral  had  partly  served  its  purpose  as  a 
reconciling  bond,  when  one  afternoon  Rebecca, 
who  had  stayed  after  school  for  her  grammar  les 
son  as  usual,  was  returning  home  by  way  of  the 
short  cut.  Far  ahead,  beyond  the  bars,  she  espied 
the  Simpson  children  just  entering  the  woodsv 


80  REBECCA 

bit.  Seesaw  was  not  with  them,  so  she  hastened 
her  steps  in  order  to  secure  company  on  her  home 
ward  walk.  They  were  speedily  lost  to  view,  but 
when  she  had  almost  overtaken  them  she  heard, 
in  the  trees  beyond,  Minnie  Smellie's  voice  lifted 
high  in  song,  and  the  sound  of  a  child's  sobbing. 
Clara  Belle,  Susan,  and  the  twins  were  running 
along  the  path,  and  Minnie  was  dancing  up  and 
down,  shrieking :  — 

"'  What  made  the  sleigh  love  Simpson  so?' 

The  eager  children  cried  ; 
'Why  Simpson  loved  the  sleigh,  you  know/ 
The  teacher  quick  replied." 

The  last  glimpse  of  the  routed  Simpson  tribe, 
and  the  last  flutter  of  their  tattered  garments,  dis 
appeared  in  the  dim  distance.  The  fall  of  one  small 
stone  cast  by  the  valiant  Elijah,  known  as"  the  fight 
ing  twin,"  did  break  the  stillness  of  the  woods  for 
a  moment,  but  it  did  not  come  within  a.  hundred 
yards  of  Minnie,  who  shouted  "  Jail  Birds  "  at  the 
top  of  her  lungs  and  then  turned,  with  an  agreeable 
feeling  of  excitement,  to  meet  Rebecca,  standing 
perfectly  still  in  the  path,  with  a  day  of  reckoning 
plainly  set  forth  in  her  blazing  eyes. 

Minnie's  face  was  not  pleasant  to  see,  for  a  cow 
ard  detected  at  the  moment  of  wrongdoing-  is  not 
an  object  of  delight. 

"Minnie  Smellie,  if  ever  —  I  —  catch  —  you  — 
singing  —  that  —  to  the  Simpsons  again  —  do  you 


REBECCA  81 

know  what  I  '11  do  ? "  asked  Rebecca  in  a  tone  of 
concentrated  rage. 

"  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  said  Minnie 
jauntily,  though  her  looks  belied  her. 

"  I  '11  take  that  piece  of  coral  away  from  you,  and 
I  think  I  shall  slap  you  besides  !  " 

"  You  would  n't  darst,"  retorted  Minnie.  "  If 
you  do,  I'll  tell  my  mother  and  the  teacher,  so 
there ! " 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  tell  your  mother,  my  mother, 
and  all  your  relations,  and  the  president,"  said  Re 
becca,  gaining  courage  as  the  noble  words  fell  from 
her  lips.  "  I  don't  care  if  you  tell  the  town,  the 
whole  of  York  county,  the  state  of  Maine  and  — 
and  the  nation ! "  she  finished  grandiloquently. 
"  Now  you  run  home  and  remember  what  I  say. 
If  you  do  it  again,  and  especially  if  you  say  'Jail 
Birds,'  if  I  think  it 's  right  and  my  duty,  I  shall 
punish  you  somehow." 

The  next  morning  at  recess  Rebecca  observed 
Minnie  telling  the  tale  with  variations  to  Huldah 
Meserve.  "  She  threatened  me,"  whispered  Minnie, 
"  but  I  never  believe  a  word  she  says." 

The  latter  remark  was  spoken  with  the  direct  in 
tention  of  being  overheard,  for  Minnie  had  spasms 
of  bravery,  when  well  surrounded  by  the  machinery 
of  law  and  order. 

As  Rebecca  went  back  to  her  seat  she  asked 
Miss  Dearborn  if  she  might  pass  a  note  to  Minnie 


82  REBECCA 

Smellie   and   received  permission.   This  was  the 
note :  — 

Of  all  the  girls  that  are  so  mean 
There 's  none  Irke  Minnie  Srnellie. 
I  '11  take  away  the  gift  I  gave 
And  pound  her  into  jelly. 

P.  S.  Now  do  you  believe  me  ? 

R.  RANDALL. 

The  effect  of  this  piece  of  doggerel  was  entirely 
convincing,  and  for  days  afterwards  whenever  Min 
nie  met  the  Simpsons  even  a  mile  from  the  brick 
house  she  shuddered  and  held  her  peace. 


VIII 

COLOR   OF   ROSE 

ON  the  very  next  Friday  after  this  "dread- 
fullest  fight  that  ever  was  seen,"  as  Bun- 
yan  says  in  Pilgrim's  Progress,  there  were 
great  doings  in  the  little  schoolhouse  on  the  hill. 
Friday  afternoon  was  always  the  time  chosen  for 
dialogues,  songs,  and  recitations,  but  it  cannot  be 
stated  that  it  was  a  gala  day  in  any  true  sense  of 
the  word.  Most  of  the  children  hated  "  speak 
ing  pieces ; "  hated  the  burden  of  learning  them, 
dreaded  the  danger  of  breaking  down  in  them. 
Miss  Dearborn  commonly  went  home  with  a  head 
ache,  and  never  left  her  bed  during  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  or  evening  ;  and  the  casual  female  parent 
who  attended  the  exercises  sat  on  a  front  bench 
with  beads  of  cold  sweat  on  her  forehead,  listening 
to  the  all-too-familiar  halts  and  stammers.  Some 
times  a  bellowing  infant  who  had  clean  forgotten  his 
verse  would  cast  himself  bodily  on  the  maternal 
bosom  and  be  borne  out  into  the  open  air,  where  he 
was  sometimes  kissed  and  occasionally  spanked ; 
but  in  any  case  the  failure  added  an  extra  dash 
of  gloom  and  dread  to  the  occasion.  The  advent 
of  Rebecca  had  somehow  infused  a  new  spirit 
into  these  hitherto  terrible  afternoons.  She  had 


84  REBECCA 

taught  Elijah  and  Elisha  Simpson  so  that  they 
recited  three  verses  of  something  with  such  comical 
effect  that  they  delighted  themselves,  the  teacher, 
and  the  school ;  while  Susan,  who  lisped,  had  been 
provided  with  a  humorous  poem  in  which  she 
impersonated  a  lisping  child.  Emma  Jane  and 
Rebecca  had  a  dialogue,  and  the  sense  of  compan 
ionship  buoyed  up  Emma  Jane  and  gave  her  self- 
reliance.  In  fact,  Miss  Dearborn  announced  on 
this  particular  Friday  morning  that  the  exercises 
promised  to  be  so  interesting  that  she  had  invited 
the  doctor's  wife,  the  minister's  wife,  two  members 
of  the  school  committee,  and  a  few  mothers.  Liv 
ing  Perkins  was  asked  to  decorate  one  of  the  black 
boards  and  Rebecca  the  other.  Living,  who  was 
the  star  artist  of  the  school,  chose  the  map  of  North 
America.  Rebecca  liked  better  to  draw  things 
less  realistic,  and  speedily,  before  the  eyes  of  the 
enchanted  multitude,  there  grew  under  her  skill 
ful  fingers  an  American  flag  done  in  red,  white, 
and  blue  chalk,  every  star  in  its  right  place,  every 
stripe  fluttering  in  the  breeze.  Beside  this  ap 
peared  a  figure  of  Columbia,  copied  from  the  top 
of  the  cigar  box  that  held  the  crayons. 

Miss  Dearborn  was  delighted.  "  I  propose  we 
give  Rebecca  a  good  hand-clapping  for  such  a 
beautiful  picture  —  one  that  the  whole  school  may 
well  be  proud  of !  " 

The  scholars  clapped  heartily,  and  Dick  Carter. 
waving  his  hand,  gave  a  rousing  cheer. 


REBECCA  85 

Rebecca's  heart  leaped  for  joy,  and  to  her  con 
fusion  she  felt  the  tears  rising  in  her  eyes.  She 
could  hardly  see  the  way  back  to  her  seat,  for  in 
her  ignorant  lonely  little  life  she  had  never  been 
singled  out  for  applause,  never  lauded,  nor  crowned, 
as  in  this  wonderful,  dazzling  moment.  If  "noble 
ness  enkindleth  nobleness,"  so  does  enthusiasm 
beget  enthusiasm,  and  so  do  wit  and  talent  enkin 
dle  wit  and  talent.  Alice  Robinson  proposed  that 
the  school  should  sing  Three  Cheers  for  the  Red, 
White,  and  Blue !  and  when  they  came  to  the 
chorus,  all  point  to  Rebecca's  flag.  Dick  Carter 
suggested  that  Living  Perkins  and  Rebecca  Ran 
dall  should  sign  their  names  to  their  pictures,  so 
that  the  visitors  would  know  who  drew  them.  Hul- 
dah  Meserve  asked  permission  to  cover  the  largest 
holes  in  the  plastered  walls  with  boughs  and  fill  the 
water  pail  with  wild  flowers.  Rebecca's  mood  was 
above  and  beyond  all  practical  details.  She  sat 
silent,  her  heart  so  full  of  grateful  joy  that  she 
could  hardly  remember  the  words  of  her  dialogue. 
At  recess  she  bore  herself  modestly,  notwithstand 
ing  her  great  triumph,  while  in  the  general  atmos 
phere  of  good  will  the  Smellie-Randall  hatchet  was 
buried  and  Minnie  gathered  maple  boughs  and  cov 
ered  the  ugly  stove  with  them,  under  Rebecca's 
direction. 

Miss  Dearborn  dismissed  the  morning  session 
at  quarter  to  twelve,  §o  that  those  who  lived  near 


36  REBECCA 

enough  could  go  home  for  a  change  of  dress. 
Emma  Jane  and  Rebecca  ran  nearly  every  step  of 
the  way,  from  sheer  excitement,  only  stopping  to 
breathe  at  the  stiles. 

"  Will  your  aunt  Mirandy  let  you  wear  your  best, 
or  only  your  buff  calico  ? "  asked  Emma  Jane. 

"  I  think  I  '11  ask  aunt  Jane,"  Rebecca  replied. 
"  Oh !  if  my  pink  was  only  finished !  I  left  aunt 
Jane  making  the  buttonholes  !  " 

"  I  'm  going  to  ask  my  mother  to  let  me  wear 
her  garnet  ring,"  said  Emma  Jane.  "It  would  look 
perfectly  elergant  flashing  in  the  sun  when  I  point 
to  the  flag.  Good-by;  don't  wait  for  me  going 
back  ;  I  may  get  a  ride." 

Rebecca  found  the  side  door  locked,  but  she 
knew  that  the  key  was  under  the  step,  and  so  of 
course  did  everybody  else  in  Riverboro,  for  they 
all  did  about  the  same  thing  with  it.  She  unlocked 
the  door  and  went  into  the  dining-room  to  find  her 
lunch  laid  on  the  table  and  a  note  from  aunt  Jane 
saying  that  they  had  gone  to  Moderation  with  Mrs. 
Robinson  in  her  carryall.  Rebecca  swallowed  a 
piece  of  bread  and  butter,  and  flew  up  the  front 
stairs  to  her  bedroom.  On  the  bed  lay  the  pink 
gingham  dress  finished  by  aunt  Jane's  kind  hands. 
Could  she,  dare  she,  wear  it  without  asking  ?  Did 
the  occasion  justify  a  new  costume,  or  would  her 
aunts  think  she  ought  to  keep  it  for  the  concert  ? 

« I  '11  wear  it,"  thought  Rebecca,  "  They  're  not 


REBECCA  87 

here  to  ask,  and  maybe  they  would  n't  mind  a  bit ; 
it 's  only  gingham  after  all,  and  would  n't  be  so 
grand  if  it  was  n't  new,  and  had  n't  tape  trimming 
on  it,  and  was  n't  pink." 

She  unbraided  her  two  pigtails,  combed  out  the 
waves  of  her  hair  and  tied  them  back  with  a  rib 
bon,  changed  her  shoes,  and  then  slipped  on  the 
pretty  frock,  managing  to  fasten  all  but  the  three 
middle  buttons,  which  she  reserved  for  Emma  Jane. 

Then  her  eye  fell  on  her  cherished  pink  sunshade, 
the  exact  match,  and  the  girls  had  never  seen  it. 
It  was  n't  quite  appropriate  for  school,  but  she 
need  n't  take  it  into  the  room ;  she  would  wrap  it 
in  a  piece  of  paper,  just  show  it,  and  carry  it  com 
ing  home.  She  glanced  in  the  parlor  looking-glass 
downstairs  and  was  electrified  at  the  vision.  It 
seemed  almost  as  if  beauty  of  apparel  could  go  no 
further  than  that  heavenly  pink  gingham  dress  ! 
The  sparkle  of  her  eyes,  glow  of  her  cheeks,  sheen 
of  her  falling  hair,  passed  unnoticed  in  the  all-con 
quering  charm  of  the  rose-colored  garment.  Good 
ness  !  it  was  twenty  minutes  to  one  and  she  would 
be  late.  She  danced  out  the  side  door,  pulled  a  pink 
rose  from  a  bush  at  the  gate,  and  covered  the  mile 
between  the  brick  house  and  the  seat  of  learning 
in  an  incredibly  short  time,  meeting  Emma  Jane, 
also  breathless  and  resplendent,  at  the  entrance. 

"  Rebecca  Randall ! "  exclaimed  Emma  Jane, 
"you  're  handsome  as  a  picture  !  " 


88  REBECCA 

"  I  ? "  laughed  Rebecca.  "  Nonsense !  it 's  only 
the  pink  gingham." 

"  You  're  not  good  looking  every  day,"  insisted 
Emma  Jane ;  "  but  you  're  different  somehow.  See 
my  garnet  ring ;  mother  scrubbed  it  in  soap  and 
water.  How  on  earth  did  your  aunt  Mirandy  let 
you  put  on  your  bran'  new  dress  ? " 

"  They  were  both  away  and  I  did  n't  ask,"  Re 
becca  responded  anxiously.  "  Why  ?  Do  you  think 
they  'd  have  said  no  ?  " 

"Miss  Mirandy  always  says  no,  doesn't  she?" 
asked  Emma  Jane. 

"  Ye — es  ;  but  this  afternoon  is  very  special  — 
almost  like  a  Sunday-school  concert." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Emma  Jane,  "it  is,  of  course; 
with  your  name  on  the  board,  and  our  pointing  to 
your  flag,  and  our  elergant  dialogue,  and  all  that" 

The  afternoon  was  one  succession  of  solid  tri 
umphs  for  everybody  concerned.  There  were  no 
real  failures  at  all,  no  tears,  no  parents  ashamed 
of  their  offspring.  Miss  Dearborn  heard  many 
admiring  remarks  passed  upon  her  ability,  and 
wondered  whether  they  belonged  to  her  or  partly, 
at  least,  to  Rebecca.  The  child  had  no  more  to 
do  than  several  others,  but  she  was  somehow  in 
the  foreground.  It  transpired  afterwards  at  vari 
ous  village  entertainments  that  Rebecca  could  n't 
be  kept  in  the  background ;  it  positively  refused 
to  hold  her.  Her  worst  enemy  could  not  have 


REBECCA  89 

called  her  pushing.  She  was  ready  and  willing 
and  never  shy ;  but  she  sought  for  no  chances 
of  display  and  was,  indeed,  remarkably  lacking  in 
self-consciousness,  as  well  as  eager  to  bring  others 
into  whatever  fun  or  entertainment  there  was. 
If  wherever  the  MacGregor  sat  was  the  head  of 
the  table,  so  in  the  same  way  wherever  Rebecca 
stood  was  the  centre  of  the  stage.  Her  clear  high 
treble  soared  above  all  the  rest  in  the  choruses, 
and  somehow  everybody  watched  her,  took  note 
of  her  gestures,  her  whole-souled  singing,  her  irre 
pressible  enthusiasm. 

Finally  it  was  all  over,  and  it  seemed  to  Rebecca 
as  if  she  should  never  be  cool  and  calm  again,  as 
she  loitered  on  the  homeward  path.  There  would 
be  no  lessons  to  learn  to-night,  and  the  vision  of 
helping  with  the  preserves  on  the  morrow  had  no 
terrors  for  her  —  fears  could  not  draw  breath  in 
the  radiance  that  flooded  her  soul.  There  were 
thick  gathering  clouds  in  the  sky,  but  she  took  no 
note  of  them  save  to  be  glad  that  she  could  raise 
her  sunshade.  She  did  not  tread  the  solid  ground 
at  all,  or  have  any  sense  of  belonging  to  the  com 
mon  human  family,  until  she  entered  the  side  yard 
of  the  brick  house  and  saw  her  aunt  Miranda 
standing  in  the  open  doorway.  Then  with  a  rush 
she  came  back  to  earth. 


IX 

ASHES   OF   ROSES 


f    •    "^HERE  she  is,  over  an  hour  late;  a  little 
more  an'  she  'd  'a'  been  caught  in  a  thun- 


i 


der  shower,  but  she'd  never  look  ahead," 
said  Miranda  to  Jane ;  "and  added  to  all  her  other 
iniquities,  if  she  ain't  rigged  out  in  that  new  dress, 
steppin'  along  with  her  father's  dancin'-school  steps, 
and  swingin'  her  parasol  for  all  the  world  as  if  she 
was  play-actin'.  Now  I  'm  the  oldest,  Jane,  an'  I 
intend  to  have  my  say  out ;  if  you  don't  like  it  you 
can  go  into  the  kitchen  till  it 's  over.  Step  right 
in  here,  Rebecca  ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  What  did 
you  put  on  that  good  new  dress  for,  on  a  school 
day,  without  permission  ?  " 

"  I  had  intended  to  ask  you  at  noontime,  but  you 
were  n't  at  home,  so  I  could  n't,"  began  Rebecca. 

"  You  did  no  such  a  thing  ;  you  put  it  on  because 
you  was  left  alone,  though  you  knew  well  enough 
I  wouldn't  have  let  you." 

"  If  I  'd  been  certain  you  would  n't  have  let  me 
I'd  never  have  done  it,"  said  Rebecca,  trying  to 
be  truthful ;  "  but  I  was  n't  certain,  and  it  was  worth 
risking.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might,  if  you  knew 
it  was  almost  a  real  exhibition  at  school." 

"Exhibition!"    exclaimed  Miranda   scornfully; 


REBECCA  91 

"you  are  exhibition  enough  by  yourself,  I  should 
say.  Was  you  exhibitin'  your  parasol  ?  " 

"The  parasol  was  silly,"  confessed  Rebecca, 
hanging  her  head  ;  "but  it's  the  only  time  in  my 
whole  life  when  I  had  anything  to  match  it,  and 
it  looked  so  beautiful  with  the  pink  dress  !  Emma 
Jane  and  I  spoke  a  dialogue  about  a  city  girl  and 
a  country  girl,  and  it  came  to  me  just  the  minute 
before  I  started  how  nice  it  would  come  in  for  the 
city  girl;  and  it  did.  I  haven't  hurt  my  dress  a 
mite,  aunt  Mirandy." 

"  It 's  the  craftiness  and  underhandedness  of 
your  actions  that 's  the  worst,"  said  Miranda 
coldly.  "And  look  at  the  other  things  you've 
done  !  It  seems  as  if  Satan  possessed  you  !  You 
went  up  the  front  stairs  to  your  room,  but  you 
did  n't  hide  your  tracks,  for  you  dropped  your 
handkerchief  on  the  way  up.  You  left  the  screen 
out  of  your  bedroom  window  for  the  flies  to  come 
in  all  over  the  house.  You  never  cleared  away 
your  lunch  nor  set  away  a  dish,  and  you  left  the 
side  door  unlocked  from  half  past  twelve  to  three 
o'clock,  so  't  anybody  could  'a'  come  in  and  stolen 
what  they  liked  !  " 

Rebecca  sat  down  heavily  in  her  chair  as  she 
heard  the  list  of  her  transgressions.  How  could 
she  have  been  so  careless  ?  The  tears  began  to 
flow  now  as  she  attempted  to  explain  sins  that 
never  could  be  explained  or  justified 


92  REBECCA 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  sorry  ! "  she  faltered.  "  I  was  trim- 
ming  the  schoolroom,  and  got  belated,  and  ran  all 
the  way  home.  It  was  hard  getting  into  my  dress 
alone,  and  I  hadn't  time  to  eat  but  a  mouthful, 
and  just  at  the  last  minute,  when  I  honestly  —  hon 
estly —  would  have  thought  about  clearing  away 
and  locking  up,  I  looked  at  the  clock  and  knew  I 
could  hardly  get  back  to  school  in  time  to  form  in 
the  line  ;  and  I  thought  how  dreadful  it  would  be 
to  go  in  late  and  get  my  first  black  mark  on  a  Fri 
day  afternoon,  with  the  minister's  wife  and  the 
doctor's  wife  and  the  school  committee  all  there !  " 

"  Don't  wail  and  carry  on  now ;  it 's  no  good 
cryin'  over  spilt  milk,"  answered  Miranda.  "An 
ounce  of  good  behavior  is  worth  a  pound  of  repent 
ance.  Instead  of  tryin'  to  see  how  little  trouble 
you  can  make  in  a  house  that  ain't  your  own  home, 
it  seems  as  if  you  tried  to  see  how  much  you  could 
put  us  out.  Take  that  rose  out  o'  your  dress  and 
let  me  see  the  spot  it 's  made  on  your  yoke,  an'  the 
rusty  holes  where  the  wet  pin  went  in.  No,  it  ain't ; 
but  it 's  more  by  luck  than  forethought.  I  ain't  got 
any  patience  with  your  flowers  and  frizzled-out  hair 
and  furbelows  an'  airs  an'  graces,  for  all  the  world 
like  your  Miss-Nancy  father." 

Rebecca  lifted  her  head  in  a  flash.  "  Look  here, 
aunt  Mirandy,  I  '11  be  as  good  as  I  know  how  to  be. 
I  '11  mind  quick  when  I  'm  spoken  to  and  never 
leave  the  door  unlocked  again,  but  I  won't  have 


REBECCA  93 

my  father  called  names.  He  was  a  p-perfectly 
1-lovely  father,  that 's  what  he  was,  and  it 's  mean 
to  call  him  Miss  Nancy!" 

"  Don't  you  dare  answer  me  back  that  imperdent 
way,  Rebecca,  tellin'  me  I  'm  mean  ;  your  father 
was  a  vain,  foolish,  shiftless  man,  an'  you  might  as 
well  hear  it  from  me  as  anybody  else ;  he  spent 
your  mother's  money  and  left  her  with  seven  chit 
dren  to  provide  for." 

"It's  s-something  to  leave  s-seven  nice  chil 
dren,"  sobbed  Rebecca. 

"  Not  when  other  folks  have  to  help  feed,  clothe, 
and  educate  'em,"  responded  Miranda.  "  Now  you 
step  upstairs,  put  on  your  nightgown,  go  to  bed, 
and  stay  there  till  to-morrow  mornin'.  You  '11  find 
a  bowl  o'  crackers  an'  milk  on  your  bureau,  an'  I 
don't  want  to  hear  a  sound  from  you  till  breakfast 
time.  Jane,  run  an'  take  the  dish  towels  off  the 
line  and  shut  the  shed  doors  ;  we  're  goin'  to  have 
a  tumble  shower." 

"We've  had  it,  I  should  think,"  said  Jane 
quietly,  as  she  went  to  do  her  sister's  bidding. 
"  I  don't  often  speak  my  mind,  Mirandy ;  but  you 
ought  not  to  have  said  what  you  did  about  Lo 
renzo.  He  was  what  he  was,  and  can't  be  made 
any  different ;  but  he  was  Rebecca's  father,  and 
Aurelia  always  says  he  was  a  good  husband." 

Miranda  had  never  heard  the  proverbial  phrase 
about  the  only  "  good  Indian,"  but  her  mind  worked 


94  REBECCA 

in  the  conventional  manner  when  she  said  grimly, 
"  Yes,  I  've  noticed  that  dead  husbands  are  usually 
good  ones  ;  but  the  truth  needs  an  airin'  now  and 
then,  and  that  child  will  never  amount  to  a  hill  o' 
beans  till  she  gets  some  of  her  father  trounced  out 
of  her.  I  'm  glad  I  said  just  what  I  did." 

"  I  daresay  you  are,"  remarked  Jane,  with  what 
might  be  described  as  one  of  her  annual  bursts  of 
courage  ;  "  but  all  the  same,  Mirandy,  it  was  n't 
good  manners,  and  it  was  n't  good  religion  !  " 

The  clap  of  thunder  that  shook  the  house  just  at 
that  moment  made  no  such  peal  in  Miranda  Saw 
yer's  ears  as  Jane's  remark  made  when  it  fell  with 
a  deafening  roar  on  her  conscience. 

Perhaps  after  all  it  is  just  as  well  to  speak  only 
once  a  year  and  then  speak  to  the  purpose. 

Rebecca  mounted  the  back  stairs  wearily,  closed 
the  door  of  her  bedroom,  and  took  off  the  beloved 
pink  gingham  with  trembling  fingers.  Her  cotton 
handkerchief  was  rolled  into  a  hard  ball,  and  in  the 
intervals  of  reaching  the  more  difficult  buttons  that 
lay  between  her  shoulder  blades  and  her  belt,  she 
dabbed  her  wet  eyes  carefully,  so  that  they  should 
not  rain  salt  water  on  the  finery  that  had  been 
worn  at  such  a  price.  She  smoothed  it  out  care 
fully,  pinched  up  the  white  ruffle  at  the  neck,  and 
laid  it  away  in  a  drawer  with  an  extra  little  sob  at 
the  roughness  of  life.  The  withered  pink  rose  fell 
on  the  floor.  Rebecca  looked  at  it  and  thought  to 


REBECCA  95 

herself,  "  Just  like  my  happy  day  !  "  Nothing  could 
show  more  clearly  the  kind  of  child  she  was  than 
the  fact  that  she  instantly  perceived  the  symbolism 
of  the  rose,  and  laid  it  in  the  drawer  with  the  dress 
as  if  she  were  burying  the  whole  episode  with  all 
its  sad  memories.  It  was  a  child's  poetic  instinct 
with  a  dawning  hint  of  woman's  sentiment  in  it. 

She  braided  her  hair  in  the  two  accustomed  pig 
tails,  took  oft  her  best  shoes  (which  had  happily 
escaped  notice),  with  all  the  while  a  fixed  resolve 
growing  in  her  mind,  that  of  leaving  the  brick 
house  and  going  back  to  the  farm.  She  would  not 
be  received  there  with  open  arms,  —  there  was  no 
hope  of  that,  —  but  she  would  help  her  mother 
about  the  house  and  send  Hannah  to  Riverboro  in 
her  place.  "  I  hope  she  '11  like  it ! "  she  thought  in 
a  momentary  burst  of  vindictiveness.  She  sat  by 
the  window  trying  to  make  some  sort  of  plan, 
watching  the  lightning  play  over  the  hilltop  and 
the  streams  of  rain  chasing  each  other  down  the 
lightning  rod.  And  this  was  the  day  that  had 
dawned  so  joyfully !  It  had  been  a  red  sunrise, 
and  she  had  leaned  on  the  window  sill  studying 
her  lesson  and  thinking  what  a  lovely  world  it 
was.  And  what  a  golden  morning !  The  changing 
of  the  bare,  ugly  little  schoolroom  into  a  bower  of 
beauty ;  Miss  Dearborn's  pleasure  at  her  success 
with  the  Simpson  twins'  recitation  ;  the  privilege 
of  decorating  the  blackboard ;  the  happy  thought 


96  REBECCA 

of  drawing  Columbia  from  the  cigar  box ;  the  in 
toxicating  moment  when  the  school  clapped  her ! 
And  what  an  afternoon  !  How  it  went  on  from 
glory  to  glory,  beginning  with  Emma  Jane's  telling 
her,  Rebecca  Randall,  that  she  was  as  "  handsome 
as  a  picture." 

She  lived  through  the  exercises  again  in  mem 
ory,  especially  her  dialogue  with  Emma  Jane  and 
her  inspiration  of  using  the  bough-covered  stove 
as  a  mossy  bank  where  the  country  girl  could  sit 
and  watch  her  flocks.  This  gave  Emma  Jane  a  feel 
ing  of  such  ease  that  she  never  recited  better; 
and  how  generous  it  was  of  her  to  lend  the  garnet 
ring  to  the  city  girl,  fancying  truly  how  it  would 
flash  as  she  furled  her  parasol  and  approached  the 
awe-stricken  shepherdess !  She  had  thought  aunt 
Miranda  might  be  pleased  that  the  niece  invited 
down  from  the  farm  had  succeeded  so  well  at 
school ;  but  no,  there  was  no  hope  of  pleasing  her 
in  that  or  in  any  other  way.  She  would  go  to 
Maplewood  on  the  stage  next  day  with  Mr.  Gobi 
and  get  home  somehow  from  cousin  Ann's.  On 
second  thoughts  her  aunts  might  not  allow  it. 
Very  well,  she  would  slip  away  now  and  see  if  she 
could  stay  all  night  with  the  Cobbs  and  be  off  next 
morning  before  breakfast. 

Rebecca  never  stopped  long  to  think,  more  's  the 
pity,  so  she  put  on  her  oldest  dress  and  hat  and 
jacket,  then  wrapped  her  nightdress,  comb,  and 


REBECCA  97 

toothbrush  in  a  bundle  and  dropped  it  softly  out 
of  the  window.  Her  room  was  in  the  L  and  her 
window  at  no  very  dangerous  distance  from  the 
ground,  though  had  it  been,  nothing  could  have 
stopped  her  at  that  moment.  Somebody  who  had 
gone  on  the  roof  to  clean  out  the  gutters  had  left 
a  cleat  nailed  to  the  side  of  the  house  about  half 
way  between  the  window  and  the  top  of  the  back 
porch.  Rebecca  heard  the  sound  of  the  sewing 
machine  in  the  dining-room  and  the  chopping  of 
meat  in  the  kitchen  ;  so  knowing  the  whereabouts 
of  both  her  aunts,  she  scrambled  out  of  the  window, 
caught  hold  of  the  lightning  rod,  slid  down  to  the 
helpful  cleat,  jumped  to  the  porch,  used  the  wood 
bine  trellis  for  a  ladder,  and  was  flying  up  the  road 
in  the  storm  before  she  had  time  to  arrange  any 
details  of  her  future  movements. 

Jeremiah  Cobb  sat  at  his  lonely  supper  at  the 
table  by  the  kitchen  window.  "  Mother,"  as  he 
with  his  old-fashioned  habits  was  in  the  habit  of 
calling  his  wife,  was  nursing  a  sick  neighbor.  Mrs. 
Cobb  was  mother  only  to  a  little  headstone  in  the 
churchyard,  where  reposed  "  Sarah  Ann,  beloved 
daughter  of  Jeremiah  and  Sarah  Cobb,  aged  seven 
teen  months  ; "  but  the  name  of  mother  was  better 
than  nothing,  and  served  at  any  rate  as  a  reminder 
of  her  woman's  crown  of  blessedness. 

The  rain  still  fell,  and  the  heavens  were  dark, 


98  REBECCA 

though  it  was  scarcely  five  o'clock.  Looking  up 
from  his  "dish  of  tea,"  the  old  man  saw  at  the 
open  door  a  very  figure  of  woe.  Rebecca's  face 
was  so  swollen  with  tears  and  so  sharp  with  mis 
ery  that  for  a  moment  he  scarcely  recognized  her. 
Then  when  he  heard  her  voice  asking,  "Please 
may  I  come  in,  Mr.  Cobb?"  he  cried,  "Well  I 
vow !  It 's  my  little  lady  passenger !  Come  to  call 
on  old  uncle  Jerry  and  pass  the  time  o'  day,  hev 
ye?  Why,  you're  wet  as  sops.  Draw  up  to  the 
stove.  I  made  a  fire,  hot  as  it  was,  thinkin'  I 
wanted  somethin'  warm  for  my  supper,  bein*  kind 
o'  lonesome  without  mother.  She 's  settin'  up  with 
Seth  Strout  to-night.  There,  we  '11  hang  your 
soppy  hat  on  the  nail,  put  your  jacket  over  the 
chair  rail,  an'  then  you  turn  your  back  to  the  stove 
an'  dry  yourself  good." 

Uncle  Jerry  had  never  before  said  so  many 
words  at  a  time,  but  he  had  caught  sight  of  the 
child's  red  eyes  and  tear-stained  cheeks,  and  his 
big  heart  went  out  to  her  in  her  trouble,  quite 
regardless  of  any  circumstances  that  might  have 
caused  it. 

Rebecca  stood  still  for  a  moment  until  uncle 
Jerry  took  his  seat  again  at  the  table,  and  then, 
unable  to  contain  herself  longer,  cried,  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Cobb,  I  've  run  away  from  the  brick  house,  and  I 
want  to  go  back  to  the  farm.  Will  you  keep  me 
to-night  and  take  me  up  to  Maplewood  in  the 


REBECCA  99 

stage  ?  I  have  n't  got  any  money  for  my  fare,  but 
I  '11  earn  it  somehow  afterwards." 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  won't  quarrel  'bout  money,  you 
and  me,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  and  we  've  never  had 
our  ride  together,  anyway,  though  we  allers  meant 
to  go  down  river,  not  up." 

"  I  shall  never  see  Milltown  now !  "  sobbed  Re 
becca. 

"  Come  over  here  side  o'  me  an'  tell  me  all  about 
it,"  coaxed  uncle  Jerry.  "Jest  set  down  on  that 
there  wooden  cricket  an'  out  with  the  whole  story." 

Rebecca  leaned  her  aching  head  against  Mr. 
Cobb's  homespun  knee  and  recounted  the  history 
of  her  trouble.  Tragic  as  that  history  seemed  to 
her  passionate  and  undisciplined  mind,  she  told  it 
truthfully  and  without  exaggeration. 


RAINBOW   BRIDGES 

UNCLE  JERRY  coughed  and  stirred  in  his 
chair  a  good  deal  during  Rebecca's  recital, 
but  he  carefully  concealed  any  undue  feel 
ing  of  sympathy,  just  muttering,  "  Poor  little  soul ! 
We  '11  see  what  we  can  do  for  her !  " 

"  You  will  take  me  to  Maplewood,  won't  you,  Mr. 
Cobb  ? "  begged  Rebecca  piteously. 

"Don't  you  fret  a  mite,"  he  answered,  with  a 
crafty  little  notion  at  the  back  of  his  mind  ;  "  I  '11 
see  the  lady  passenger  through  somehow.  Now 
take  a  bite  o'  somethin'  to  eat,  child.  Spread  some 
o'  that  tomato  preserve  on  your  bread ;  draw  up  to 
the  table.  How  'd  you  like  to  set  in  mother's  place 
an'  pour  me  out  another  cup  o'  hot  tea  ? " 

Mr.  Jeremiah  Cobb's  mental  machinery  was 
simple,  and  did  not  move  very  smoothly  save  when 
propelled  by  his  affection  or  sympathy.  In  the 
present  case  these  were  both  employed  to  his  ad 
vantage,  and  mourning  his  stupidity  and  praying 
for  some  flash  of  inspiration  to  light  his  path,  he 
blundered  along,  trusting  to  Providence. 

Rebecca,  comforted  by  the  old  man's  tone,  and 
timidly  enjoying  the  dignity  of  sitting  in  Mrs.  Cobb's 
seat  and  lifting  the  blue  china  teapot,  smiled  faintly, 
smoothed  her  hair,  and  dried  her  eyes. 


REBECCA  101 

*I  suppose  your  mother '11  be  tumble  glad  to 
see  you  back  again  ? "  queried  Mr.  Cobb. 

A  tiny  fear  —  just  a  baby  thing  —  in  the  bottom 
of  Rebecca's  heart  stirred  and  grew  larger  the  mo 
ment  it  was  touched  with  a  question. 

"  She  won't  like  it  that  I  ran  away,  I  s'pose,  and 
she  '11  be  sorry  that  I  could  n't  please  aunt  Mirandy  ; 
but  I  '11  make  her  understand,  just  as  I  did  you/' 

"  I  s'pose  she  was  thinkin'  o'  your  schoolin',  let- 
tin'  you  come  down  here ;  but  land  !  you  can  go  to 
school  in  Temperance,  I  s'pose  ? " 

"There  's  only  two  months'  school  now  in  Tem 
perance,  and  the  farm  's  too  far  from  all  the  other 
schools." 

"Oh  well!  there's  other  things  in  the  world 
beside  edj creation,"  responded  uncle  Jerry,  attack 
ing  a  piece  of  apple  pie. 

"Ye — es;  though  mother  thought  that  was  going 
to  be  the  making  of  me,"  returned  Rebecca  sadly, 
giving  a  dry  little  sob  as  she  tried  to  drink  her  tea, 

"  It  '11  be  nice  for  you  to  be  all  together  again 
at  the  farm  —  such  a  house  full  o'  children  ! "  re 
marked  the  dear  old  deceiver,  who  longed  for  no 
thing  so  much  as  to  cuddle  and  comfort  the  poor 
little  creature. 

"  It 's  too  full  —  that 's  the  trouble.  But  I  '11 
make  Hannah  come  to  Riverboro  in  my  place." 

"  S'pose  Mirandy  'n'  Jane  '11  have  her  ?  I  should 
be  'most  afraid  they  would  n't.  They  '11  be  kind  o' 


102  REBECCA 

mad  at  your  goin'  home,  you  know,  and  you  can't 
hardly  blame  'em." 

This  was  quite  a  new  thought,  —  that  the  brick 
house  might  be  closed  to  Hannah,  since  she,  Re 
becca,  had  turned  her  back  upon  its  cold  hospitality. 

"  How  is  this  school  down  here  in  Riverboro 
—  pretty  good  ?  "  inquired  uncle  Jerry,  whose  brain 
was  working  with  an  altogether  unaccustomed  ra 
pidity, —  so  much  so  that  it  almost  terrified  him. 

"  Oh,  it 's  a  splendid  school !  And  Miss  Dear- 
born  is  a  splendid  teacher  !  " 

"You  like  her,  do  you  ?  Well,  you'd  better  believe 
she  returns  the  compliment.  Mother  was  down  to 
the  store  this  afternoon  buyin'  liniment  for  Seth 
Strout,  an*  she  met  Miss  Dearborn  on  the  bridge. 
They  got  to  talkin'  'bout  school,  for  mother  has 
summer-boarded  a  lot  o'  the  schoolmarms,  an*  likes 
'em.  'How  does  the  little  Temperance  girl  git 
along  ? '  asks  mother.  '  Oh,  she 's  the  best  scholar 
I  have ! '  says  Miss  Dearborn.  '  I  could  teach  school 
from  sun-up  to  sun-down  if  scholars  was  all  like 
Rebecca  Randall,'  says  she." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Cobb,  did  she  say  that  ?  "  glowed  Re 
becca,  her  face  sparkling  and  dimpling  in  an  instant. 
"  I  've  tried  hard  all  the  time,  but  I  '11  study  the 
covers  right  off  of  the  books  now." 

"  You  mean  you  would  if  you  'd  ben  goin'  to 
stay  here,"  interposed  uncle  Jerry.  "  Now  ain't  it 
too  bad  you  've  jest  got  to  give  it  all  up  on  account 


REBECCA  103 

o'  your  aunt  Mirandy  ?  Well,  I  can't  hardly  blame 
ye.  She  's  cranky  an'  she  's  sour ;  I  should  think 
she  'd  ben  nussed  on  bonny-clabber  an'  green 
apples.  She  needs  bearin'  with ;  an'  I  guess  you 
ain't  much  on  patience,  be  ye  ?  " 

"Not  very  much,"  replied  Rebecca  dolefully. 

"  If  I  'd  had  this  talk  with  ye  yesterday,"  pursued 
Mr.  Cobb,  "  I  believe  I  'd  have  advised  ye  differ 
ent.  It 's  too  late  now,  an'  I  don't  feel  to  say  you  've 
ben  all  in  the  wrong  ;  but  if  't  was  to  do  over  again, 
I  'd  say,  well,  your  aunt  Mirandy  gives  you  clothes 
and  board  and  schoolin'  and  is  goin'  to  send  you 
to  Wareham  at  a  big  expense.  She  's  tumble  hard 
to  get  aiong  with,  an'  kind  o'  heaves  benefits  at 
your  head,  same  's  she  would  bricks  ;  but  they  're 
benefits  jest  the  same,  an'  mebbe  it 's  your  job  to 
kind  o'  pay  for  'em  in  good  behavior.  Jane 's  a 
leetle  bit  more  easy  goin'  than  Mirandy,  ain't  she, 
or  is  she  jest  as  hard  to  please  ?  " 

"  Oh,  aunt  Jane  and  I  get  along  splendidly,"  ex 
claimed  Rebecca;  "she's  just  as  good  and  kind 
as  she  can  be,  and  I  like  her  better  all  the  time. 
I  think  she  kind  of  likes  me,  too  ;  she  smoothed 
my  hair  once.  I  'd  let  her  scold  me  all  day  long, 
for  she  understands  ;  but  she  can't  stand  up  for  me 
against  aunt  Mirandy;  she's  about  as  afraid  of 
her  as  I  am." 

"  Jane  '11  be  real  sorry  to-morrow  to  find  you  've 
gone  away,  I  guess ;  but  never  mind,  it  can't  be 


io4  REBECCA 

helped.  If  she  has  a  kind  of  a  dull  time  with  Mirandy, 
on  account  o'  her  bein*  so  sharp,  why  of  course 
she  'd  set  great  store  by  your  comp'ny.  Mother  was 
talkin'  with  her  after  prayer  meetin'  the  other  night. 
'  You  would  n't  know  the  brick  house,  Sarah/  says 
Jane.  '  I  'm  keepin'  a  sewin'  school,  an'  my  scholar 
has  made  three  dresses.  What  do  you  think  o' 
that,'  says  she,  '  for  an  old  maid's  child  ?  I  've 
taken  a  class  in  Sunday-school,'  says  Jane,  'an* 
think  o'  renewin'  my  youth  an'  goin'  to  the  picnic 
with  Rebecca,'  says  she ;  an'  mother  declares  she 
never  see  her  look  so  young  V  happy." 

There  was  a  silence  that  could  be  felt  in  the  little 
kitchen  ;  a  silence  only  broken  by  the  ticking  of 
the  tall  clock  and  the  beating  of  Rebecca's  heart, 
which,  it  seemed  to  her,  almost  drowned  the  voice 
of  the  clock.  The  rain  ceased,  a  sudden  rosy  light 
filled  the  room,  and  through  the  window  a  rain 
bow  arch  could  be  seen  spanning  the  heavens  like 
a  radiant  bridge.  Bridges  took  one  across  difficult 
places,  thought  Rebecca,  and  uncle  Jerry  seemed 
to  have  built  one  over  her  troubles  and  given  her 
strength  to  walk. 

"The  shower's  over,"  said  the  old  man,  filling 
his  pipe  ;  "  it 's  cleared  the  air,  washed  the  face  o' 
the  airth  nice  an'  clean,  an'  everything  to-morrer 
will  shine  like  a  new  pin  — -  when  you  an'  I  are 
drivin*  up  river." 

Rebecca  pushed  her  cup  away,  rose  from  the 


REBECCA  105 

table,  and  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket  quietly.  "  I  'm 
not  going  to  drive  up  river,  Mr.  Cobb,"  she  said 
"  I  'm  going  to  stay  here  and  —  catch  bricks  ;  catch 
'em  without  throwing  'em  back,  too.  I  don't  know 
as  aunt  Mirandy  will  take  me  in  after  I  've  run 
away,  but  I  'm  going  back  now  while  I  have  the 
courage.  You  would  n't  be  so  good  as  to  go  with 
me,  would  you,  Mr.  Cobb  ?  " 

"You'd  better  b'lieve  your  uncle  Jerry  don't 
propose  to  leave  till  he  gits  this  thing  fixed  up," 
cried  the  old  man  delightedly.  "  Now  you  've  had 
all  you  can  stan'  to-night,  poor  little  soul,  without 
gettin'  a  fit  o'  sickness  ;  an'  Mirandy  '11  be  sore 
an'  cross  an'  in  no  condition  for  argyment ;  so  my 
plan  is  jest  this  :  to  drive  you  over  to  the  brick 
house  in  my  top  buggy  ;  to  have  you  set  back  in 
the  corner,  an'  I  git  out  an'  go  to  the  side  door; 
an'  when  I  git  your  aunt  Mirandy  V  aunt  Jane 
out  int'  the  shed  to  plan  for  a  load  o'  wood  I  'm 
goin'  to  have  hauled  there  this  week,  you  '11  slip 
out  o'  the  buggy  and  go  upstairs  to  bed.  The  front 
door  won't  be  locked,  will  it  ?  " 

"  Not  this  time  of  night,"  Rebecca  answered  ; 
"  not  till  aunt  Mirandy  goes  to  bed ;  but  oh  !  what 
if  it  should  be  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  won't ;  an'  if  't  is,  why  we  '11  have  to 
face  it  out ;  though  in  my  opinion  there  's  things 
that  won't  bear  facin'  out  an'  had  better  be  settled 
comfortable  an'  quiet.  You  see  you  ain't  run  away 


106  REBECCA 

yet ;  you  've  only  come  over  here  to  consult  me 
'bout  runnin'  away,  an'  we  've  concluded  it  ain't 
wuth  the  trouble.  The  only  real  sin  you  've  com 
mitted,  as  I  figger  it  out,  was  in  comin'  here  by  the 
winder  when  you  'd  ben  sent  to  bed.  That  ain't  so 
very  black,  an'  you  can  tell  your  aunt  Jane  'bout 
it  come  Sunday,  when  she  's  chock  full  o'  religion, 
an'  she  can  advise  you  when  you  'd  better  tell  your 
aunt  Mirandy.  I  don't  believe  in  deceivin'  folks, 
but  if  you  Ve  hed  hard  thoughts  you  ain't  obleeged 
to  own  'em  up ;  take  'em  to  the  Lord  in  prayer,  as 
the  hymn  says,  and  then  don't  go  on  hevin'  'em. 
Now  come  on  ;  I  'm  all  hitched  up  to  go  over  to 
the  post-office  ;  don't  forget  your  bundle ;  '  it 's 
always  a  journey,  mother,  when  you  carry  a  night 
gown  ; '  them  's  the  first  words  your  uncle  Jerry 
ever  heard  you  say  !  He  did  n't  think  you  'd  be 
bringin'  your  nightgown  over  to  his  house.  Step 
in  an'  curl  up  in  the  corner ;  we  ain't  goin'  to  let 
folks  see  little  runaway  gals,  'cause  they  're  goin' 
back  to  begin  all  over  ag'in  ! " 

When  Rebecca  crept  upstairs,  and  undressing  in 
the  dark  finally  found  herself  in  her  bed  that  night, 
though  she  was  aching  and  throbbing  in  every 
nerve,  she  felt  a  kind  of  peace  stealing  over  her. 
She  had  been  saved  from  foolishness  and  error ; 
kept  from  troubling  her  poor  mother;  prevented 
from  angering  and  mortifying  her  aunts. 


REBECCA  107 

Her  heart  was  melted  now,  and  she  determined 
to  win  aunt  Miranda's  approval  by  some  desperate 
means,  and  to  try  and  forget  the  one  thing  that 
rankled  worst,  the  scornful  mention  of  her  father, 
of  whom  she  thought  with  the  greatest  admiration, 
and  whom  she  had  not  yet  heard  criticised  ;  for 
such  sorrows  and  disappointments  as  Aurelia  Ran 
dall  had  suffered  had  never  been  communicated  to 
her  children. 

It  would  have  been  some  comfort  to  the  bruised, 
unhappy  little  spirit  to  know  that  Miranda  Saw 
yer  was  passing  an  uncomfortable  night,  and  that 
she  tacitly  regretted  her  harshness,  partly  because 
Jane  had  taken  such  a  lofty  and  virtuous  position 
in  the  matter.  She  could  not  endure  Jane's  disap 
proval,  although  she  would  never  have  confessed  to 
such  a  weakness. 

As  uncle  Jerry  drove  homeward  under  the  stars, 
well  content  with  his  attempts  at  keeping  the  peace, 
he  thought  wistfully  of  the  touch  of  Rebecca's  head 
on  his  knee,  and  the  rain  of  her  tears  on  his  hand  ; 
of  the  sweet  reasonableness  of  her  mind  when  she 
had  the  matter  put  rightly  before  her  ;  of  her  quick 
decision  when  she  had  once  seen  the  path  of  duty ; 
of  the  touching  hunger  for  love  and  understand 
ing  that  were  so  characteristic  in  her.  "Lord 
A'mighty  ! "  he  ejaculated  under  his  breath,  "  Lord 
A'mighty  !  to  hector  and  abuse  a  child  like  that 
one  I  'T  ain't  abuse  exactly,  I  know,  or  't  would  n't 


io8  REBECCA 

be  to  some  o'  your  elephant-hided  young  ones ;  but 
to  that  little  tender  will-o'-the-wisp  a  hard  word  's 
like  a  lash.  Mirandy  Sawyer  would  be  a  heap  better 
woman  if  she  had  a  little  graves  tun  to  remember, 
same 's  mother  'n'  I  have." 

"I  never  see  a  child  improve  in  her  work  as 
Rebecca  has  to-day,"  remarked  Miranda  Sawyer  to 
Jane  on  Saturday  evening.  "  That  settin'  down  I 
gave  her  was  probably  just  what  she  needed,  and 
I  daresay  it  '11  last  for  a  month." 

"I  'm  glad  you  're  pleased,"  returned  Jane.  "A 
cringing  worm  is  what  you  want,  not  a  bright,  smil 
ing  child.  Rebecca  looks  to  me  as  if  she  'd  been 
through  the  Seven  Years'  War.  When  she  came 
downstairs  this  morning  it  seemed  to  me  she'd 
grown  old  in  the  night.  If  you  follow  my  advice, 
which  you  seldom  do,  you  '11  let  me  take  her  and 
Emma  Jane  down  beside  the  river  to-morrow  after 
noon  and  bring  Emma  Jane  home  to  a  good  Sunday 
supper.  Then  if  you  '11  let  her  go  to  Milltown  with 
the  Cobbs  on  Wednesday,  that  '11  hearten  her  up 
a  little  and  coax  back  her  appetite.  Wednesday 's  a 
holiday  on  account  of  Miss  Dearborn's  going  home 
to  her  sister's  wedding,  and  the  Cobbs  and  Per 
kinses  want  to  go  down  to  the  Agricultural  Fair." 


XI 

"THE   STIRRING   OF   THE   POWERS" 

K)BECCA'S  visit  to  Milltown  was  all  that  her 
glowing  fancy  had  painted  it,  except  that 
recent  readings  about  Rome  and  Venice 
disposed  her  to  believe  that  those  cities  might 
have  an  advantage  over  Milltown  in  the  matter 
of  mere  pictorial  beauty.  So  soon  does  the  soul 
outgrow  its  mansions  that  after  once  seeing  Mill- 
town  her  fancy  ran  out  to  the  future  sight  of 
Portland ;  for  that,  having  islands  and  a  harbor 
and  two  public  monuments,  must  be  far  more 
beautiful  than  Milltown,  which  would,  she  felt,  take 
its  proud  place  among  the  cities  of  the  earth,  by 
reason  of  its  tremendous  business  activity  rather 
than  by  any  irresistible  appeal  to  the  imagination. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  two  children  to  see 
more,  do  more,  walk  more,  talk  more,  eat  more,  or 
ask  more  questions  than  Rebecca  and  Emma  Jane 
did  on  that  eventful  Wednesday. 

"  She  's  the  best  company  I  ever  see  in  all  my 
life,"  said  Mrs.  Cobb  to  her  husband  that  evening. 
"  We  ain't  had  a  dull  minute  this  day.  She  's  well- 
mannered,  too  ;  she  did  n't  ask  for  anything,  and 
was  thankful  for  whatever  she  got.  Did  you  watch 
her  face  when  we  went  into  that  tent  where  they 


no  REBECCA 

was  actin*  out  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  ?  And  did  you 
take  notice  of  the  way  she  told  us  about  the  book 
when  we  sat  down  to  have  our  ice  cream  ?  I  tell  you 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  herself  could  n't  'a'  done 
it  better  justice." 

"  I  took  it  all  in,"  responded  Mr.  Cobb,  who  was 
pleased  that  "mother"  agreed  with  him  about  Re 
becca.  "  I  ain't  sure  but  she 's  goin'  to  turn  out 
somethin'  remarkable,  —  a  singer,  or  a  writer,  or  a 
lady  doctor  like  that  Miss  Parks  up  to  Cornish." 

"  Lady  doctors  are  always  home'paths,  ain't 
they  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cobb,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
was  distinctly  of  the  old  school  in  medicine. 

"  Land,  no,  mother ;  there  ain't  no  home'path 
'bout  Miss  Parks  —  she  drives  all  over  the  coun- 
try." 

"  I  can't  see  Rebecca  as  a  lady  doctor,  some 
how,"  mused  Mrs.  Cobb.  "  Her  gift  o'  gab  is  what 's 
goin'  to  be  the  makin'  of  her;  mebbe  she  '11  lecture, 
or  recite  pieces,  like  that  Portland  elocutionist  that 
come  out  here  to  the  harvest  supper." 

"  I  guess  she  '11  be  able  to  write  down  her  own 
pieces,"  said  Mr.  Cobb  confidently ;  "  she  could 
make  'em  up  faster  'n  she  could  read  'em  out  of  a 
book." 

"  It 's  a  pity  she 's  so  plain  looking,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Cobb,  blowing  out  the  candle. 

"Plain  looking,  mother?"  exclaimed  her  hus 
band  in  astonishment.  "  Look  at  the  eyes  of  her  ; 


REBECCA  in 

look  at  the  hair  of  her,  an'  the  smile,  an'  that 
there  dimple !  Look  at  Alice  Robinson,  that 's 
called  the  prettiest  child  on  the  river,  an*  see  how 
Rebecca  shines  her  ri'  down  out  o'  sight !  I  hope 
Mirandy  '11  favor  her  comin'  over  to  see  us  real 
often,  for  she  '11  let  off  some  of  her  steam  here,  an' 
the  brick  house  '11  be  consid'able  safer  for  every 
body  concerned.  We  've  known  what  it  was  to  hev 
children,  even  if  't  was  more  'n  thirty  years  ago, 
an'  we  can  make  allowances." 

Notwithstanding  the  encomiums  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cobb,  Rebecca  made  a  poor  hand  at  composition 
writing  at  this  time.  Miss  Dearborn  gave  her 
every  sort  of  subject  that  she  had  ever  been  given 
herself  :  Cloud  Pictures  ;  Abraham  Lincoln  ;  Na 
ture  ;  Philanthropy  ;  Slavery  ;  Intemperance  ;  Joy 
and  Duty ;  Solitude  ;  but  with  none  of  them  did 
Rebecca  seem  to  grapple  satisfactorily. 

"Write  as  you  talk,  Rebecca,"  insisted  poor  Miss 
Dearborn,  who  secretly  knew  that  she  could  never 
manage  a  good  composition  herself. 

"  But  gracious  me,  Miss  Dearborn  !  I  don't  talk 
about  nature  and  slavery.  I  can't  write  unless  I 
have  something  to  say,  can  I  ?  " 

"That  is  what  compositions  are  for,"  returned 
Miss  Dearborn  doubtfully ;  "  to  make  you  have 
things  to  say.  Now  in  your  last  one,  on  solitude,  you 
have  n't  said  anything  very  interesting,  and  you  've 
made  it  too  common  and  every-day  to  sound  well 


ii2  REBECCA 

There  are  too  many  '  yous  '  and  '  yours  'in  it ;  you 
ought  to  say  '  one '  now  and  then,  to  make  it  seem 
more  like  good  writing.  '  One  opens  a  favorite 
book ; '  '  One's  thoughts  are  a  great  comfort  in  soli 
tude/  and  so  on." 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  about  solitude  this  week 
than  I  did  about  joy  and  duty  last  week,"  grumbled 
Rebecca. 

"  You  tried  to  be  funny  about  joy  and  duty," 
said  Miss  Dearborn  reprovingly ;  "  so  of  course  you 
did  n't  succeed." 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  were  going  to  make  us  read 
the  things  out  loud,"  said  Rebecca  with  an  embar 
rassed  smile  of  recollection. 

"Joy  and  Duty  "  had  been  the  inspiring  subject 
given  to  the  older  children  for  a  theme  to  be  writ 
ten  in  five  minutes. 

Rebecca  had  wrestled,  struggled,  perspired  in 
vain.  When  her  turn  came  to  read  she  was  obliged 
to  confess  she  had  written  nothing. 

"  You  have  at  least  two  lines,  Rebecca,"  insisted 
the  teacher,  "  for  I  see  them  on  your  slate." 

"  I  'd  rather  not  read  them,  please ;  they  are  not 
good,"  pleaded  Rebecca. 

"Read  what  you  have,  good  or  bad,  little  01 
much  ;  I  am  excusing  nobody." 

Rebecca  rose,  overcome  with  secret  laughter, 
dread,  and  mortification ;  then  in  a  low  voice  she 
read  the  couplet :  — 


REBECCA  113 

When  Joy  and  Duty  clash 
Let  Duty  go  to  smash. 

Dick  Carter's  head  disappeared  under  the  desk, 
while  Living  Perkins  choked  with  laughter. 

Miss  Dearborn  laughed  too  ;  she  was  little  more 
than  a  girl,  and  the  training  of  the  young  idea  sel 
dom  appealed  to  the  sense  of  humor. 

"  You  must  stay  after  school  and  try  again,  Re 
becca,"  she  said,  but  she  said  it  smilingly.  "  Your 
poetry  has  n't  a  very  nice  idea  in  it  for  a  good  little 
girl  who  ought  to  love  duty." 

"  It  was  n't  my  idea,"  said  Rebecca  apologetically. 
"  I  had  only  made  the  first  line  when  I  saw  you  were 
going  to  ring  the  bell  and  say  the  time  was  up.  I 
had  '  clash '  written,  and  I  could  n't  think  of  any 
thing  then  but  '  hash  '  or  '  rash  '  or  '  smash.'  I '!] 
change  it  to  this  :  — 

When  Joy  and  Duty  clash, 
'T  is  Joy  must  go  to  smash." 

"That  is  better,"  Miss  Dearborn  answered, 
"  though  I  cannot  think  '  going  to  smash  '  is  a  pretty 
expression  for  poetry." 

Having  been  instructed  in  the  use  of  the  indefinite 
pronoun  "  one  "  as  giving  a  refined  and  elegant  touch 
to  literary  efforts,  Rebecca  painstakingly  rewrote 
her  composition  on  solitude,  giving  it  all  the  benefit 
of  Miss  Dearborn's  suggestion.  It  then  appeared  in 
the  following  form,  which  hardly  satisfied  either 
teacher  or  pupil :  — 


ii4  REBECCA 

SOLITUDE 

It  would  be  false  to  say  that  one  could  ever  be 
alone  when  one  has  one's  lovely  thoughts  to  comfort 
one.  One  sits  by  one's  self,  it  is  true,  but  one  thinks  ; 
one  opens  one's  favorite  book  and  reads  one's  favor 
ite  story  ;  one  speaks  to  one's  aunt  or  one's  brother, 
fondles  one's  cat,  or  looks  at  one's  photograph  album. 
There  is  one's  work  also :  what  a  joy  it  is  to  one,  if 
one  happens  to  like  work.  All  one's  little  household 
tasks  keep  one  from  being  lonely.  Does  one  ever 
feel  bereft  when  one  picks  up  one's  chips  to  light 
one's  fire  for  one's  evening  meal  ?  Or  when  one 
washes  one's  milk  pail  before  milking  one's  cow  ? 
One  would  fancy  not. 

R.  R.  R. 

"  It  is  perfectly  dreadful,"  sighed  Rebecca  when 
she  read  it  aloud  after  school.  "  Putting  in  '  one '  all 
the  time  does  n't  make  it  sound  any  more  like  a 
book,  and  it  looks  silly  besides." 

"You  say  such  queer  things,"  objected  Miss 
Dearborn.  "I  don't  see  what  makes  you  do  it. 
Why  did  you  put  in  anything  so  common  as  picking 
up  chips  ? " 

"  Because  I  was  talking  about  '  household  tasks ' 
in  the  sentence  before,  and  it  is  one  of  my  house 
hold  tasks.  Don't  you  think  calling  supper 'one's 
evening  meal '  is  pretty  ?  and  is  n't  '  bereft  a  nice 
word?" 


REBECCA  115 

"  Yes,  that  part  of  it  does  very  well.    It  is  the  cat, 

the  chips,  and  the  milk  pail  that  I  don't  like." 
"All   right!"   sighed  Rebecca.    "Out  they  go» 

Does  the  cow  go  too  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  don't  like  a  cow  in  a  composition,"  said 

the  difficult  Miss  Dearborn. 

The  Milltown  trip  had  not  been  without  its  tragic 
consequences  of  a  small  sort ;  for  the  next  week 
Minnie  Smellie's  mother  told  Miranda  Sawyer  that 
she  'd  better  look  after  Rebecca,  for  she  was  given 
to  "  swearing  and  profane  language  ;  "  that  she  had 
been  heard  saying  something  dreadful  that  very 
afternoon,  saying  it  before  Emma  Jane  and  Living 
Perkins,  who  only  laughed  and  got  down  on  all 
fours  and  chased  her. 

Rebecca,  on  being  confronted  and  charged  with 
the  crime,  denied  it  indignantly,  and  aunt  Jane  be 
lieved  her. 

"  Search  your  memory,  Rebecca,  and  try  to  think 
what  Minnie  overheard  you  say,"  she  pleaded. 
"  Don't  be  ugly  and  obstinate,  but  think  real  hard. 
When  did  they  chase  you  up  the  road,  and  what 
were  you  doing  ?  " 

A  sudden  light  broke  upon  Rebecca's  darkness. 

"  Oh !  I  see  it  now,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  had 
rained  hard  all  the  morning,  you  know,  and  the 
road  was  full  of  puddles.  Emma  Jane,  Living,  and 
I  were  walking  along,  and  I  was  ahead.  I  saw  the 


n6  REBECCA 

water  streaming  over  the  road  towards  the  ditch,  and 
it  reminded  me  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  at  Milltown, 
when  Eliza  took  her  baby  and  ran  across  the  Missis 
sippi  on  the  ice  blocks,  pursued  by  the  bloodhounds. 
We  could  n't  keep  from  laughing  after  we  came  out 
of  the  tent  because  they  were  acting  on  such  a  small 
platform  that  Eliza  had  to  run  round  and  round,  and 
part  of  the  time  the  one  dog  they  had  pursued  her, 
and  part  of  the  time  she  had  to  pursue  the  dog.  I 
knew  Living  would  remember,  too,  so  I  took  off  my 
waterproof  and  wrapped  it  round  my  books  for  a 
baby;  then  I  shouted,  ' My  God !  the  river /'  just 
like  that  —  the  same  as  Eliza  did  in  the  play ;  then 
I  leaped  from  puddle  to  puddle,  and  Living  and 
Emma  Jane  pursued  me  like  the  bloodhounds.  It 's 
just  like  that  stupid  Minnie  Smellie  who  doesn't 
know  a  game  when  she  sees  one.  And  Eliza  was  n't 
swearing  when  she  said  '  My  God  !  the  river ! '  It 
was  more  like  praying." 

"  Well,  you  Ve  got  no  call  to  be  prayin',  any  more 
than  swearin',  in  the  middle  of  the  road,"  said  Mi 
randa  ;  "  but  I  'm  thankful  it 's  no  worse.  You  're 
born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward,  an'  I  'm 
afraid  you  allers  will  be  till  you  learn  to  bridle  your 
unruly  tongue." 

"  I  wish  sometimes  that  I  could  bridle  Minnie's," 
murmured  Rebecca,  as  she  went  to  set  the  table  for 
supper. 

"  I  declare   she  is  the   beatin'est  child !  "   said 


REBECCA  117 

Miranda,  taking  off  her  spectacles  and  laying  down 
her  mending.  "  You  don't  think  she  's  a  leetle  mite 
crazy,  do  you,  Jane  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  's  like  the  rest  of  us,"  re 
sponded  Jane  thoughtfully  and  with  some  anxiety 
in  her  pleasant  face ;  "  but  whether  it 's  for  the 
better  or  the  worse  I  can't  hardly  tell  till  she  grows 
up.  She  's  got  the  making  of  'most  anything  in  her, 
Rebecca  has ;  but  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  we  were 
not  fitted  to  cope  with  her." 

"  Stuff  an'  nonsense  !  "  said  Miranda.  "  Speak 
for  yourself.  I  feel  fitted  to  cope  with  any  child 
that  ever  was  born  int'  the  world !  " 

"  I  know  you  do,  Mirandy  ;  but  that  don't  make 
you  so,"  returned  Jane  with  a  smile. 

The  habit  of  speaking  her  mind  freely  was  cer 
tainly  growing  on  Jane  to  an  altogether  terrifying 
extent 


XII 
"SEE  THE   PALE   MARTYR" 

IT  was  about  this  time  that  Rebecca,  who  had  been 
reading  about  the  Spartan  boy,  conceived  the 
idea  of  some  mild  form  of  self-punishment  to 
be  applied  on  occasions  when  she  was  fully  con 
vinced  in  her  own  mind  that  it  would  be  salutary. 
The  immediate  cause  of  the  decision  was  a  some 
what  sadder  accident  than  was  common,  even  in  a 
career  prolific  in  such  things. 

Clad  in  her  best,  Rebecca  had  gone  to  take  tea 
with  the  Cobbs ;  but  while  crossing  the  bridge  she 
was  suddenly  overcome  by  the  beauty  of  the  river 
and  leaned  over  the  newly  painted  rail  to  feast  her 
eyes  on  the  dashing  torrent  of  the  fall.  Resting  h^r 
elbows  on  the  topmost  board,  and  inclining  her  little 
figure  forward  in  delicious  ease,  she  stood  there 
dreaming. 

The  river  above  the  dam  was  a  glassy  lake  with 
all  the  loveliness  of  blue  heaven  and  green  shore  re 
flected  in  its  surface  ;  the  fall  was  a  swirling  wonder 
of  water,  ever  pouring  itself  over  and  over  inexhaust 
ibly  in  luminous  golden  gushes  that  lost  themselves 
in  snowy  depths  of  foam.  Sparkling  in  the  sunshine, 
gleaming  under  the  summer  moon,  cold  and  gray 
beneath  a  November  sky,  trickling  over  the  dam 


REBECCA  119 

in  some  burning  July  drought,  swollen  with  turbu 
lent  power  in  some  April  freshet,  how  many  young 
eyes  gazed  into  the  mystery  and  majesty  of  the 
falls  along  that  river,  and  how  many  young  hearts 
dreamed  out  their  futures  leaning  over  the  bridge 
rail,  seeing  "  the  vision  splendid  "  reflected  there  and 
often,  too,  watching  it  fade  into  "  the  light  of  com 
mon  day." 

Rebecca  never  went  across  the  bridge  without 
bending  over  the  rail  to  wonder  and  to  ponder,  and 
at  this  special  moment  she  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  on  a  poem. 

Two  maidens  by  a  river  strayed 

Down  in  the  state  of  Maine. 
The  one  was  called  Rebecca, 

The  other  Emma  Jane. 
"  I  would  my  life  were  like  the  stream," 

Said  her  named  Emma  Jane, 
"  So  quiet  and  so  very  smooth, 
So  free  from  every  pain." 

11 1  'd  rather  be  a  little  drop 

In  the  great  rushing  fall ! 
I  would  not  choose  the  glassy  lake, 

'T  would  not  suit  me  at  all !  " 
(It  was  the  darker  maiden  spoke 

The  words  I  just  have  stated, 
The  maidens  twain  were  simply  fri«nds 

And  not  at  all  related.) 

But  O  I  alas  !  we  may  not  have 

The  things  we  hope  to  gain ; 
The  quiet  life  may  come  to  me, 

The  rush  to  Emma  Jane  1 


120  REBECCA 

"  I  don't  like  '  the  rush  to  Emma  Jane/  and  I 
can't  think  of  anything  else.  Oh  !  what  a  smell  of 
paint !  Oh  !  it  is  on  me  !  Oh  !  it 's  all  over  my  best 
dress  !  Oh  !  what  will  aunt  Miranda  say !  " 

With  tears  of  self-reproach  streaming  from  her 
eyes,  Rebecca  flew  up  the  hill,  sure  of  sympathy, 
and  hoping  against  hope  for  help  of  some  sort. 

Mrs.  Cobb  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and 
professed  herself  able  to  remove  almost  any  stain 
from  almost  any  fabric ;  and  in  this  she  was  cor 
roborated  by  uncle  Jerry,  who  vowed  that  mother 
could  git  anything  out.  Sometimes  she  took  the 
cloth  right  along  with  the  spot,  but  she  had  a  sure 
hand,  mother  had  ! 

The  damaged  garment  was  removed  and  partially 
immersed  in  turpentine,  while  Rebecca  graced  the 
festal  board  clad  in  a  blue  calico  wrapper  of  Mrs. 
Cobb's. 

"  Don't  let  it  take  your  appetite  away,"  crooned 
Mrs.  Cobb.  "  I  've  got  cream  biscuit  and  honey  for 
you.  If  the  turpentine  don't  work,  I  '11  try  French 
chalk,  magneshy,  and  warm  suds.  If  they  fail,  father 
shall  run  over  to  Strout's  and  borry  some  of  the 
stuff  Marthy  got  in  Milltown  to  take  the  currant  pie 
out  of  her  weddin'  dress." 

"  I  ain't  got  to  understandin'  this  paintin'  accident 
yet,"  said  uncle  Jerry  jocosely,  as  he  handed  Re 
becca  the  honey.  "  Bein'  as  how  there  's  '  Fresh 
Paint '  signs  hung  all  over  the  breedge,  so  't  a  blind 


REBECCA  121 

asylum  could  n't  miss  'em,  I  can't  hardly  account 
for  your  gettin'  int'  the  pesky  stuff." 

"  I  did  n't  notice  the  signs,"  Rebecca  said  dole 
fully.  "I  suppose  I  was  looking  at  the  falls." 

"  The  falls  has  been  there  sence  the  beginnin' 
o'  time,  an'  I  cal'late  they'll  be  there  till  the  end 
on  't ;  so  you  need  n't  'a'  been  in  sech  a  brash  to  git 
a  sight  of  'em.  Children  comes  tumble  high,  mother, 
but  I  s'pose  we  must  have  'em  !  "  he  said,  winking 
at  Mrs.  Cobb. 

When  supper  was  cleared  away  Rebecca  insisted 
on  washing  and  wiping  the  dishes,  while  Mrs.  Cobb 
worked  on  the  dress  with  an  energy  that  plainly 
showed  the  gravity  of  the  task.  Rebecca  kept  leav 
ing  her  post  at  the  sink  to  bend  anxiously  over 
the  basin  and  watch  her  progress,  while  uncle  Jerry 
offered  advice  from  time  to  time. 

"  You  must  'a'  laid  all  over  the  breedge,  deary," 
said  Mrs.  Cobb  ;  "for  the  paint  's  not  only  on  your 
elbows  and  yoke  and  waist,  but  it  about  covers 
your  front  breadth." 

As  the  garment  began  to  look  a  little  better  Re 
becca's  spirits  took  an  upward  turn,  and  at  length 
she  left  it  to  dry  in  the  fresh  air,  and  went  into  the 
sitting-room. 

"  Have  you  a  piece  of  paper,  please  ?  "  asked  Re 
becca.  "  I  '11  copy  out  the  poetry  I  was  making 
while  I  was  lying  in  the  paint." 

Mrs.  Cobb  sat  by  her  mending  basket,  and  uncle 


122  REBECCA 

Jerry  took  down  a  gingham  bag  of  strings  and  occu 
pied  himself  in  taking  the  snarls  out  of  them,  —  a 
favorite  evening  amusement  with  him. 

Rebecca  soon  had  the  lines  copied  in  her  round 
schoolgirl  hand,  making  such  improvements  as  oc 
curred  to  her  on  sober  second  thought. 

THE  TWO   WISHES 

BY 

REBECCA  RANDALL 

Two  maidens  by  a  river  strayed, 

'T  was  in  the  state  of  Maine. 
Rebecca  was  the  darker  one, 

The  fairer,  Emma  Jane. 
The  fairer  maiden  said, "  I  would 

My  life  were  as  the  stream ; 
So  peaceful,  and  so  smooth  and  still, 

So  pleasant  and  serene." 

"  I  'd  rather  be  a  little  drop 

In  the  great  rushing  fall ; 
I  'd  never  choose  the  quiet  lake  ; 

'T  would  not  please  me  at  all." 
(It  was  the  darker  maiden  spoke 

The  words  we  just  have  stated ; 
The  maidens  twain  were  simply  friends, 

Not  sisters,  or  related.) 

But  O !  alas  J  we  may  not  have 

The  things  we  hope  to  gain. 
The  quiet  life  may  come  to  me, 

The  rush  to  Emma  Jane  I 

She  read  it  aloud,  and  the  Cobbs  thought  it  not  only 
surpassingly  beautiful,  but  a  marvelous  production. 


REBECCA  123 

"  I  guess  if  that  writer  that  lived  on  Congress 
Street  in  Portland  could  'a'  heard  your  poetry  he  'd 
'a'  been  astonished,"  said  Mrs.  Cobb.  "If  you  ask 
me,  I  say  this  piece  is  as  good  as  that  one  o'  his, 
'  Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers ; '  and  consid- 
'able  clearer." 

"  I  never  could  fairly  make  out  what  '  mournful 
numbers '  was,"  remarked  Mr.  Cobb  critically. 

"  Then  I  guess  you  never  studied  fractions  ! " 
flashed  Rebecca.  "  See  here,  uncle  Jerry  and  aunt 
Sarah,  would  you  write  another  verse,  especially  for 
a  last  one,  as  they  usually  do  —  one  with  '  thoughts' 
in  it  —  to  make  a  better  ending  ? " 

"  If  you  can  grind  'em  out  jest  by  turnin'  the 
crank,  why  I  should  say  the  more  the  merrier ;  but 
I  don't  hardly  see  how  you  could  have  a  better 
endin',"  observed  Mr.  Cobb. 

"  It  is  horrid  !  "  grumbled  Rebecca.  "  I  ought  not 
to  have  put  that  'me  '  in.  I  'm  writing  the  poetry. 
Nobody  ought  to  know  it  is  me  standing  by  the 
river;  it  ought  to  be  '  Rebecca,'  or  'the  darker 
maiden  ; '  and  '  the  rush  to  Emma  Jane '  is  simply 
dreadful.  Sometimes  I  think  I  never  will  try  poetry, 
it 's  so  hard  to  make  it  come  right ;  and  other  times 
it  just  says  itself.  I  wonder  if  this  would  be  better  ? 

But  O  1  alas  !  we  may  not  gain 

The  good  for  which  we  pray. 
The  quiet  life  may  come  to  one 

Who  likes  it  rather  gay. 


124  REBECCA 

I  don't  know  whether  that  is  worse  or  not.    Now  for 
a  new  last  verse !  " 

In  a  few  minutes  the  poetess  looked  up,  flushed 
and  triumphant.  "  It  was  as  easy  as  nothing.  Just 
hear  I  "  And  she  read  slowly,  with  her  pretty,  pa 
thetic  voice  :  — 

Then  if  our  lot  be  bright  or  sad, 

Be  full  of  smiles,  or  tears, 
The  thought  that  God  has  planned  it  so 

Should  help  us  bear  the  years. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cobb  exchanged  dumb  glances  of 
admiration  ;  indeed  uncle  Jerry  was  obliged  to  turn 
his  face  to  the  window  and  wipe  his  eyes  furtively 
with  the  string-bag. 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  do  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Cobb 
exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  it 's  easy,"  answered  Rebecca ;  "  the  hymns 
at  meeting  are  all  like  that.  You  see  there 's  a 
school  newspaper  printed  at  Wareham  Academy 
once  a  month.  Dick  Carter  says  the  editor  is  always 
a  boy,  of  course  ;  but  he  allows  girls  to  try  and  write 
for  it,  and  then  chooses  the  best.  Dick  thinks  I  can 
be  in  it." 

"  In  it !  "  exclaimed  uncle  Jerry.  "  I  should  n't 
be  a  bit  surprised  if  you  had  to  write  the  whole 
paper ;  an'  as  for  any  boy  editor,  you  could  lick 
him  writin',  I  bate  ye,  with  one  hand  tied  behind 
ye." 

"  Can  we  have  a  copy  of  the  poetry  to  keep  in 


REBECCA  125 

the  family  Bible  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Cobb  respect 
fully. 

"  Oh  !  would  you  like  it  ? "  asked  Rebecca.  "  Yes 
indeed !  I  '11  do  a  clean,  nice  one  with  violet  ink 
and  a  fine  pen.  But  I  must  go  and  look  at  my  poor 
dress." 

The  old  couple  followed  Rebecca  into  the  kitchen. 
The  frock  was  quite  dry,  and  in  truth  it  had  been 
helped  a  little  by  aunt  Sarah's  ministrations  ;  but 
the  colors  had  run  in  the  rubbing,  the  pattern  was 
blurred,  and  there  were  muddy  streaks  here  and 
there.  As  a  last  resort,  it  was  carefully  smoothed 
with  a  warm  iron,  and  Rebecca  was  urged  to  attire 
herself,  that  they  might  see  if  the  spots  showed  as 
much  when  it  was  on. 

They  did,  most  uncompromisingly,  and  to  the 
dullest  eye.  Rebecca  gave  one  searching  look,  and 
then  said,  as  she  took  her  hat  from  a  nail  in  the 
entry,  "  I  think  I  '11  be  going.  Good-night !  If  I  've 
got  to  have  a  scolding,  I  want  it  quick,  and  get  it 
over." 

"  Poor  little  onlucky  misfortunate  thing  !  "  sighed 
uncle  Jerry,  as  his  eyes  followed  her  down  the  hill. 
"  I  wish  she  could  pay  some  attention  to  the  ground 
under  her  feet ;  but  I  vow,  if  she  was  ourn  I  'd  let 
her  slop  paint  all  over  the  house  before  I  could 
scold  her.  Here  's  her  poetry  she 's  left  behind. 
Read  it  out  ag'in,  mother.  Land  !  "  he  continued, 
chuckling,  as  he  lighted  his  cob  pipe ;  "  I  can  just 


126  REBECCA 

see  the  last  flap  o'  that  boy-editor's  shirt  tail  as  he 
legs  it  for  the  woods,  while  Rebecky  settles  down  in 
his  revolvin'  cheer  !  I  'm  puzzled  as  to  what  kind  of 
a  job  editin'  is,  exactly  ;  but  she  '11  find  out,  Rebecky 
will.  An'  she'll  just  edit  for  all  she  's  worth  ! 

"  '  The  thought  that  God  has  planned  it  so 
Should  help  us  bear  the  years.' 

Land,  mother !  that  takes  right  holt,  kind  o'  like 
the  gospel.  How  do  you  suppose  she  thought  that 
out?" 

"  She  could  n't  have  thought  it  out  at  her  age," 
said  Mrs.  Cobb ;  "  she  must  have  just  guessed  it 
was  that  way.  We  know  some  things  without  bein' 
told,  Jeremiah." 

Rebecca  took  her  scolding  (which  she  richly  de 
served)  like  a  soldier.  There  was  considerable  of  it, 
and  Miss  Miranda  remarked,  among  other  things, 
that  so  absent-minded  a  child  was  sure  to  grow  up 
into  a  driveling  idiot.  She  was  bidden  to  stay  away 
from  Alice  Robinson's  birthday  party,  and  doomed  to 
wear  her  dress,  stained  and  streaked  as  it  was,  until 
it  was  worn  out.  Aunt  Jane  six  months  later  miti 
gated  this  martyrdom  by  making  her  a  ruffled  dim 
ity  pinafore,  artfully  shaped  to  conceal  all  the  spots. 
She  was  blessedly  ready  with  these  mediations  be 
tween  the  poor  little  sinner  and  the  full  consequences 
of  her  sin. 

When  Rebecca  had  heard  her  sentence  and  gone 


REBECCA  127 

to  the  north  chamber  she  began  to  think.  If  there 
was  anything  she  did  not  wish  to  grow  into,  it  was 
an  idiot  of  any  sort,  particularly  a  driveling  one ; 
and  she  resolved  to  punish  herself  every  time  she 
incurred  what  she  considered  to  be  the  righteous 
displeasure  of  her  virtuous  relative.  She  did  n't 
mind  staying  away  from  Alice  Robinson's.  She 
had  told  Emma  Jane  it  would  be  like  a  picnic  in 
a  graveyard,  the  Robinson  house  being  as  near  an 
approach  to  a  tomb  as  a  house  can  manage  to  be. 
Children  were  commonly  brought  in  at  the  back 
door,  and  requested  to  stand  on  newspapers  while 
making  their  call,  so  that  Alice  was  begged  by  her 
friends  to  "receive"  in  the  shed  or  barn  whenever 
possible.  Mrs.  Robinson  was  not  only  "tumble 
neat,"  but  "tumble  close,"  so  that  the  refreshments 
were  likely  to  be  peppermint  lozenges  and  glasses 
of  well  water. 

After  considering  the  relative  values,  as  penances, 
of  a  piece  of  haircloth  worn  next  the  skin,  and  a 
pebble  in  the  shoe,  she  dismissed  them  both.  The 
haircloth  could  not  be  found,  and  the  pebble  would 
attract  the  notice  of  the  Argus-eyed  aunt,  besides 
being  a  foolish  bar  to  the  activity  of  a  person  who 
had  to  do  housework  and  walk  a  mile  and  a  half  to 
school. 

Her  first  experimental  attempt  at  martyrdom  had 
not  been  a  distinguished  success.  She  had  stayed 
at  home  from  the  Sunday-school  concert,  a  func- 


128  REBECCA 

tion  of  which,  in  ignorance  of  more  alluring  ones, 
she  was  extremely  fond.  As  a  result  of  her  deser 
tion,  two  infants  who  relied  upon  her  to  prompt 
them  (she  knew  the  verses  of  all  the  children  bet 
ter  than  they  did  themselves)  broke  down  ignomini- 
ously.  The  class  to  which  she  belonged  had  to  read 
a  difficult  chapter  of  Scripture  in  rotation,  and  the 
various  members  spent  an  arduous  Sabbath  after 
noon  counting  out  verses  according  to  their  seats 
in  the  pew,  and  practicing  the  ones  that  would  in 
evitably  fall  to  them.  They  were  too  ignorant  to 
realize,  when  they  were  called  upon,  that  Rebecca's 
absence  would  make  everything  come  wrong,  and 
the  blow  descended  with  crushing  force  when  the 
Jebusites  and  Amorites,  the  Girgashites,  Hivites, 
and  Perizzites  had  to  be  pronounced  by  the  persons 
of  all  others  least  capable  of  grappling  with  them. 

Self-punishment,  then,  to  be  adequate  and  proper, 
must  begin,  like  charity,  at  home,  and  unlike  charity 
should  end  there  too.  Rebecca  looked  about  the 
room  vaguely  as  she  sat  by  the  window.  She  must 
give  up  something, 'and  truth  to  tell  she  possessed 
little  to  give,  hardly  anything  but  —  yes,  that  would 
do,  the  beloved  pink  parasol.  She  could  not  hide  it 
in  the  attic,  for  in  some  moment  of  weakness  she 
would  be  sure  to  take  it  out  again.  She  feared  she 
had  not  the  moral  energy  to  break  it  into  bits.  Her 
eyes  moved  from  the  parasol  to  the  apple-trees  in 
the  side  yard,  and  then  fell  to  the  well  curb.  That 


REBECCA  129 

would  do  ;  she  would  fling  her  dearest  possession  into 
the  depths  of  the  water.  Action  followed  quickly 
upon  decision,  as  usual.  She  slipped  down  in  the 
darkness,  stole  out  the  front  door,  approached  the 
place  of  sacrifice,  lifted  the  cover  of  the  well,  gave  one 
unresigned  shudder,  and  flung  the  parasol  downward 
with  all  her  force.  At  the  crucial  instant  of  renun 
ciation  she  was  greatly  helped  by  the  reflection  that 
she  closely  resembled  the  heathen  mothers  who  cast 
their  babes  to  the  crocodiles  in  the  Ganges. 

She  slept  well  and  arose  refreshed,  as  a  con 
secrated  spirit  always  should  and  sometimes  does. 
But  there  was  great  difficulty  in  drawing  water  after 
breakfast.  Rebecca,  chastened  and  uplifted,  had 
gone  to  school.  Abijah  Flagg  was  summoned,  lifted 
the  well  cover,  explored,  found  the  inciting  cause  of 
trouble,  and  with  the  help  of  Yankee  wit  succeeded 
in  removing  it.  The  fact  was  that  the  ivory  hook  of 
the  parasol  had  caught  in  the  chain  gear,  and  when 
the  first  attempt  at  drawing  water  was  made,  the 
little  offering  of  a  contrite  heart  was  jerked  up,  bent, 
its  strong  ribs  jammed  into  the  well  side,  and  en 
tangled  with  a  twig  root.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
no  sleight-of-hand  performer,  however  expert,  unless 
aided  by  the  powers  of  darkness,  could  have  accom 
plished  this  feat ;  but  a  luckless  child  in  the  pursuit 
of  virtue  had  done  it  with  a  turn  of  the  wrist. 

We  will  draw  a  veil  over  the  scene  that  occurred 
after  Rebecca's  return  from  school.  You  who  read 


i3o  REBECCA 

may  be  well  advanced  in  years,  you  may  be  gifted  in 
rhetoric,  ingenious  in  argument ;  but  even  you  might 
quail  at  the  thought  of  explaining  the  tortuous  men 
tal  processes  that  led  you  into  throwing  your  beloved 
pink  parasol  into  Miranda  Sawyer's  well.  Perhaps 
you  feel  equal  to  discussing  the  efficacy  of  spiritual 
self-chastisement  with  a  person  who  closes  her  lips 
into  a  thin  line  and  looks  at  you  out  of  blank,  uncom 
prehending  eyes !  Common  sense,  right,  and  logic 
were  all  arrayed  on  Miranda's  side.  When  poor  Re 
becca,  driven  to  the  wall,  had  to  avow  the  reasons 
lying  behind  the  sacrifice  of  the  sunshade,  her  aunt 
said,  "  Now  see  here,  Rebecca,  you  're  too  big  to  be 
whipped,  and  I  shall  never  whip  you  ;  but  when  you 
think  you  ain't  punished  enough,  just  tell  me,  and 
I  '11  make  out  to  invent  a  little  something  more.  I 
ain't  so  smart  as  some  folks,  but  I  can  do  that  much  ; 
and  whatever  it  is,  it  '11  be  something  that  won't 
punish  the  whole  family,  and  make  'em  drink  ivory 
dust,  wood  chips,  and  pink  silk  rags  with  their 


XIII 

SNOW-WHITE;  ROSE-RED 

JUST  before  Thanksgiving  the  affairs  of  the 
Simpsons  reached  what  might  have  been  called 
a  crisis,  even  in  their  family,  which  had  been 
born  and  reared  in  a  state  of  adventurous  poverty  and 
perilous  uncertainty. 

Riverboro  was  doing  its  best  to  return  the  entire 
tribe  of  Simpsons  to  the  land  of  its  fathers,  so  to 
speak,  thinking  rightly  that  the  town  which  had 
given  them  birth,  rather  than  the  town  of  their  adop 
tion,  should  feed  them  and  keep  a  roof  over  their 
heads  until  the  children  were  of  an  age  for  self- 
support.  There  was  little  to  eat  in  the  household  and 
less  to  wear,  though  Mrs.  Simpson  did,  as  always, 
her  poor  best.  The  children  managed  to  satisfy  their 
appetites  by  sitting  modestly  outside  their  neigh 
bors'  kitchen  doors  when  meals  were  about  to  be 
served.  They  were  not  exactly  popular  favorites,  but 
they  did  receive  certain  undesirable  morsels  from  the 
more  charitable  housewives. 

Life  was  rather  dull  and  dreary,  however,  and  in 
the  chill  and  gloom  of  November  weather,  with  the 
vision  of  other  people's  turkeys  bursting  with  fat, 
and  other  people's  golden  pumpkins  and  squashes 
and  corn  being  garnered  into  barns,  the  young 


132  REBECCA 

Simpsons  groped  about  for  some  inexpensive  form 
of  excitement,  and  settled  upon  the  selling  of  soap 
for  a  premium.  They  had  sold  enough  to  their 
immediate  neighbors  during  the  earlier  autumn  to 
secure  a  child's  handcart,  which,  though  very  weak 
on  its  pins,  could  be  trundled  over  the  country  roads. 
With  large  business  sagacity  and  an  executive  capa 
city  which  must  have  been  inherited  from  their  fa 
ther,  they  now  proposed  to  extend  their  operations 
to  a  larger  area  and  distribute  soap  to  contiguous  vil 
lages,  if  these  villages  could  be  induced  to  buy.  The 
Excelsior  Soap  Company  paid  a  very  small  return  of 
any  kind  to  its  infantile  agents,  who  were  scattered 
through  the  state,  but  it  inflamed  their  imaginations 
by  the  issue  of  circulars  with  highly  colored  pictures 
of  the  premiums  to  be  awarded  for  the  sale  of  a  cer 
tain  number  of  cakes.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that 
Clara  Belle  and  Susan  Simpson  consulted  Rebecca, 
who  threw  herself  solidly  and  wholeheartedly  into  the 
enterprise,  promising  her  help  and  that  of  Emma 
Jane  Perkins.  The  premiums  within  their  possible 
grasp  were  three:  a  bookcase,  a  plush  reclining  chair, 
and  a  banquet  lamp.  Of  course  the  Simpsons  had 
no  books,  and  casting  aside,  without  thought  or  pang, 
the  plush  chair,  which  might  have  been  of  some 
use  in  a  family  of  seven  persons  (not  counting  Mr. 
Simpson,  who  ordinarily  sat  elsewhere  at  the  town's 
expense),  they  warmed  themselves  rapturously  in 
the  vision  of  the  banquet  lamp,  which  speedily  be- 


REBECCA  133 

came  to  them  more  desirable  than  food,  drink,  or 
clothing.  Neither  Emma  Jane  nor  Rebecca  per 
ceived  anything  incongruous  in  the  idea  of  the 
Simpsons  striving  for  a  banquet  lamp.  They  looked 
at  the  picture  daily  and  knew  that  if  they  themselves 
were  free  agents  they  would  toil,  suffer,  ay  sweat, 
for  the  happy  privilege  of  occupying  the  same  room 
with  that  lamp  through  the  coming  winter  evenings. 
It  looked  to  be  about  eight  feet  tall  in  the  catalogue, 
and  Emma  Jane  advised  Clara  Belle  to  measure  the 
height  of  the  Simpson  ceilings ;  but  a  note  in  the 
margin  of  the  circular  informed  them  that  it  stood 
two  and  a  half  feet  high  when  set  up  in  all  its  dignity 
and  splendor  on  a  proper  table,  three  dollars  extra. 
It  was  only  of  polished  brass,  continued  the  circular, 
though  it  was  invariably  mistaken  for  solid  gold,  and 
the  shade  that  accompanied  it  (at  least  it  accom 
panied  it  if  the  agent  sold  a  hundred  extra  cakes) 
was  of  crinkled  crepe  paper  printed  in  a  dozen  deli 
cious  hues,  from  which  the  joy -dazzled  agent  might 
take  his  choice. 

Seesaw  Simpson  was  not  in  the  syndicate.  Clara 
Belle  was  rather  a  successful  agent,  but  Susan,  who 
could  only  say  "  thoap,"  never  made  large  returns, 
and  the  twins,  who  were  somewhat  young  to  be  thor 
oughly  trustworthy,  could  be  given  only  a  half  dozen 
cakes  at  a  time,  and  were  obliged  to  carry  with  them 
on  their  business  trips  a  brief  document  stating  the 
price  per  cake,  dozen,  and  box.  Rebecca  and  Emma 


134  REBECCA 

Jane  offered  to  go  two  or  three  miles  in  some  one 
direction  and  see  what  they  could  do  in  the  way  of 
stirring  up  a  popular  demand  for  the  Snow-White  and 
Rose-Red  brands,  the  former  being  devoted  to  laundry 
purposes  and  the  latter  being  intended  for  the  toilei. 

There  was  a  great  amount  of  hilarity  in  the  pre« 
paration  for  this  event,  and  a  long  council  in  Emma 
Jane's  attic.  They  had  the  soap  company's  circular 
from  which  to  arrange  a  proper  speech,  and  they 
had,  what  was  still  better,  the  remembrance  of  a 
certain  patent-medicine  vender's  discourse  at  the 
Milltown  Fair.  His  method,  when  once  observed, 
could  never  be  forgotten  ;  nor  his  manner,  nor  his 
vocabulary.  Emma  Jane  practiced  it  on  Rebecca, 
and  Rebecca  on  Emma  Jane. 

"  Can  I  sell  you  a  little  soap  this  afternoon  ?  It 
is  called  the  Snow- White  and  Rose-Red  Soap,  six 
cakes  in  an  ornamental  box,  only  twenty  cents  for 
the  white,  twenty-five  cents  for  the  red.  It  is  made 
from  the  purest  ingredients,  and  if  desired  could  be 
eaten  by  an  invalid  with  relish  and  profit." 

"  Oh,  Rebecca,  don't  let 's  say  that !  "  interposed 
Emma  Jane  hysterically.  "  It  makes  me  feel  like  a 
fool." 

"  It  takes  so  little  to  make  you  feel  like  a  fool, 
Emma  Jane,"  rebuked  Rebecca,  "  that  sometimes  I 
think  that  you  must  be  one.  I  don't  get  to  feeling 
like  a  fool  so  awfully  easy  ;  now  leave  out  that  eat 
ing  part  if  you  don't  like  it,  and  go  on." 


REBECCA  i35 

"  The  Snow- White  is  probably  the  most  remark 
able  laundry  soap  ever  manufactured.  Immerse  the 
garments  in  a  tub,  lightly  rubbing  the  more  soiled 
portions  with  the  soap ;  leave  them  submerged  in 
water  from  sunset  to  sunrise,  and  then  the  youngest 
baby  can  wash  them  without  the  slightest  effort." 

"  Babe,  not  baby,"  corrected  Rebecca  from  the 
circular. 

"  It 's  just  the  same  thing,"  argued  Emma  Jane. 

"  Of  course  it 's  just  the  same  thing ;  but  a  baby 
has  got  to  be  called  babe  or  infant  in  a  circular, 
the  same  as  it  is  in  poetry !  Would  you  rather  say 
infant  ?  " 

"No,"  grumbled  Emma  Jane;  "infant  is  worse 
even  than  babe.  Rebecca,  do  you  think  we  'd  better 
do  as  the  circular  says,  and  let  Elijah  or  Elisha  try 
the  soap  before  we  begin  selling  ? " 

"  I  can't  imagine  a  babe  doing  a  family  wash  with 
any  soap,"  answered  Rebecca  ;  "  but  it  must  be  true 
or  they  would  never  dare  to  print  it,  so  don't  let 's 
bother.  Oh !  won't  it  be  the  greatest  fun,  Emma 
Jane?  At  some  of  the  houses — where  they  can't 
possibly  know  me  —  I  shan't  be  frightened,  and  I 
shall  reel  off  the  whole  rigmarole,  invalid,  babe,  and 
all.  Perhaps  I  shall  say  even  the  last  sentence,  if  I 
can  remember  it :  '  We  sound  every  chord  in  the 
great  mac-ro-cosm  of  satisfaction."  ' 

This  conversation  took  place  on  a  Friday  after 
noon  at  Emma  Jane's  house,  where  Rebecca,  to  her 


136  REBECCA 

unbounded  joy,  was  to  stay  over  Sunday,  her  aunts 
having  gone  to  Portland  to  the  funeral  of  an  old 
friend.  Saturday  being  a  holiday,  they  were  going 
to  have  the  old  white  horse,  drive  to  North  River- 
boro  three  miles  away,  eat  a  twelve  o'clock  dinner 
with  Emma  Jane's  cousins,  and  be  back  at  four 
o'clock  punctually. 

When  the  children  asked  Mrs.  Perkins  if  they 
could  call  at  just  a  few  houses  coming  and  going, 
and  sell  a  little  soap  for  the  Simpsons,  she  at  first 
replied  decidedly  in  the  negative.  She  was  an  in 
dulgent  parent,  however,  and  really  had  little  objec 
tion  to  Emma  Jane  amusing  herself  in  this  unusual 
way ;  it  was  only  for  Rebecca,  as  the  niece  of  the 
difficult  Miranda  Sawyer,  that  she  raised  scruples ; 
but  when  fully  persuaded  that  the  enterprise  was  a 
charitable  one,  she  acquiesced. 

The  girls  called  at  Mr.  Watson's  store,  and  ar 
ranged  for  several  large  boxes  of  soap  to  be  charged 
to  Clara  Belle  Simpson's  account.  These  were 
lifted  into  the  back  of  the  wagon,  and  a  happier 
couple  never  drove  along  the  country  road  than 
Rebecca  and  her  companion.  It  was  a  glorious 
Indian  summer  day,  which  suggested  nothing  of 
Thanksgiving,  near  at  hand  as  it  was.  It  was  a 
rustly  day,  a  scarlet  and  buff,  yellow  and  carmine, 
bronze  and  crimson  day.  There  were  still  many 
leaves  on  the  oaks  and  maples,  making  a  goodly 
show  of  red  and  brown  and  gold.  The  air  was  like 


REBECCA  137 

sparkling  cider,  and  every  field  had  its  heaps  of  yel 
low  and  russet  good  things  to  eat,  all  ready  for  the 
barns,  the  mills,  and  the  markets.  The  horse  forgot 
his  twenty  years,  sniffed  the  sweet  bright  air,  and 
trotted  like  a  colt ;  Nokomis  Mountain  looked  blue 
and  clear  in  the  distance ;  Rebecca  stood  in  the 
wagon,  and  apostrophized  the  landscape  with  sud 
den  joy  of  living  :  — 

"  Great,  wide,  beautiful,  wonderful  World, 
With  the  wonderful  water  round  you  curled, 
And  the  wonderful  grass  upon  your  breast, 
World,  you  are  beautifully  drest !  " 

Dull  Emma  Jane  had  never  seemed  to  Rebecca 
so  near,  so  dear,  so  tried  and  true ;  and  Rebecca, 
to  Emma  Jane's  faithful  heart,  had  never  been  so 
brilliant,  so  bewildering,  so  fascinating,  as  in  this 
visit  together,  with  its  intimacy,  its  freedom,  and 
the  added  delights  of  an  exciting  business  enter 
prise. 

A  gorgeous  leaf  blew  into  the  wagon. 

"  Does  color  make  you  sort  of  dizzy  ? "  asked 
Rebecca. 

"  No,"  answered  Emma  Jane  after  a  long  pause; 
"  no,  it  don't ;  not  a  mite." 

"  Perhaps  dizzy  is  n't  just  the  right  word,  but  it 's 
nearest.  I  'd  like  to  eat  color,  and  drink  it,  and 
sleep  in  it.  If  you  could  be  a  tree,  which  one 
would  you  choose  ? " 

Emma  Jane  had  enjoyed  considerable  experience 


138  REBECCA 

of  this  kind,  and  Rebecca  had  succeeded  in  unstop 
ping  her  ears,  ungluing  her  eyes,  and  loosening  her 
tongue,  so  that  she  could  "  play  the  game  "  after 
a  fashion. 

"  I  'd  rather  be  an  apple-tree  in  blossom,  —  that 
one  that  blooms  pink,  by  our  pig-pen." 

Rebecca  laughed.  There  was  always  something 
unexpected  in  Emma  Jane's  replies.  "  I  'd  choose 
to  be  that  scarlet  maple  just  on  the  edge  of  the 
pond  there,"  —  and  she  pointed  with  the  whip. 
"  Then  I  could  see  so  much  more  than  your  pink 
apple-tree  by  the  pig-pen.  I  could  look  at  all  the 
rest  of  the  woods,  see  my  scarlet  dress  in  my  beauti 
ful  looking-glass,  and  watch  all  the  yellow  and  brown 
trees  growing  upside  down  in  the  water.  When 
I  'm  old  enough  to  earn  money,  I  'm  going  to  have 
a  dress  like  this  leaf,  all  ruby  color  —  thin,  you 
know,  with  a  sweeping  train  and  ruffly,  curly  edges  ; 
then  I  think  I  '11  have  a  brown  sash  like  the  trunk 
of  the  tree,  and  where  could  I  be  green  ?  Do  they 
have  green  petticoats,  I  wonder?  I'd  like  a  green 
petticoat  coming  out  now  and  then  underneath  to 
show  what  my  leaves  were  like  before  I  was  a  scar 
let  maple." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  awful  homely,"  said  Emma 
Jane.  "  I  'm  going  to  have  a  white  satin  with  a  pink 
sash,  pink  stockings,  bronze  slippers,  and  a  spangled 
fan." 


XIV 

MR.  ALADDIN 

A  SINGLE  hour's  experience  of  the  vicissi 
tudes  incident  to  a  business  career  clouded 
the  children's  spirits  just  the  least  bit. 
They  did  not  accompany  each  other  to  the  doors 
of  their  chosen  victims,  feeling  sure  that  together 
they  could  not  approach  the  subject  seriously; 
but  they  parted  at  the  gate  of  each  house,  the 
one  holding  the  horse  while  the  other  took  the 
soap  samples  and  interviewed  any  one  who  seemed 
of  a  coming-on  disposition.  Emma  Jane  had  dis 
posed  of  three  single  cakes,  Rebecca  of  three  small 
boxes ;  for  a  difference  in  their  ability  to  persuade 
the  public  was  clearly  defined  at  the  start,  though 
neither  of  them  ascribed  either  success  or  defeat  to 
anything  but  the  imperious  force  of  circumstances. 
Housewives  looked  at  Emma  Jane  and  desired  no 
soap ;  listened  to  her  description  of  its  merits,  and 
still  desired  none.  Other  stars  in  their  courses 
governed  Rebecca's  doings.  The  people  whom  she 
interviewed  either  remembered  their  present  need 
of  soap,  or  reminded  themselves  that  they  would 
need  it  in  the  future ;  the  notable  point  in  the  case 
being  that  lucky  Rebecca  accomplished,  with  almost 
no  effort,  results  that  poor  little  Emma  Jane  failed 
to  attain  by  hard  and  conscientious  labor. 


140  REBECCA 

"  It 's  your  turn,  Rebecca,  and  I  'm  glad,  too," 
said  Emma  Jane,  drawing  up  to  a  gateway  and 
indicating  a  house  that  was  set  a  considerable  dis 
tance  from  the  road.  "  I  have  n't  got  over  trem 
bling  from  the  last  place  yet."  (A  lady  had  put  her 
head  out  of  an  upstairs  window  and  called,  "Go 
away,  little  girl ;  whatever  you  have  in  your  box  we 
don't  want  any.")  "  I  don't  know  who  lives  here, 
and  the  blinds  are  all  shut  in  front.  If  there 's 
nobody  at  home  you  must  n't  count  it,  but  take  the 
next  house  as  yours." 

Rebecca  walked  up  the  lane  and  went  to  the 
side  door.  There  was  a  porch  there,  and  seated  in 
a  rocking-chair,  husking  corn,  was  a  good-looking 
young  man,  or  was  he  middle  aged  ?  Rebecca 
could  not  make  up  her  mind.  At  all  events  he  had 
an  air  of  the  city  about  him,  —  well-shaven  face, 
well-trimmed  mustache,  well-fitting  clothes.  Re 
becca  was  a  trifle  shy  at  this  unexpected  encounter, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  explain  her 
presence,  so  she  asked,  "  Is  the  lady  of  the  house 
at  home  ? " 

"  I  am  the  lady  of  the  house  at  present,"  said 
the  stranger,  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  What  can  I 
do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  —  would  you  like,  or 
I  mean  —  do  you  need  any  soap  ?  "  queried  Rebecca, 

"Do  I  look  as  if  I  did?"  he  responded  unex 
pectedly. 


REBECCA  141 

Rebecca  dimpled.  "  I  didn't  mean  that ;  I  have 
some  soap  to  sell ;  I  mean  I  would  like  to  intro 
duce  to  you  a  very  remarkable  soap,  the  best  now 
on  the  market.  It  is  called  the  "  — 

"  Oh!  I  must  know  that  soap,"  said  the  gentle 
man  genially.  "  Made  out  of  pure  vegetable  fats, 
is  n't  it  ?  " 

"The  very  purest,"  corroborated  Rebecca, 

"  No  acid  in  it  ?  " 

"Not  a  trace." 

"  And  yet  a  child  could  do  the  Monday  washing 
with  it  and  use  no  force." 

"A  babe,"  corrected  Rebecca. 

"  Oh !  a  babe,  eh  ?  That  child  grows  younger 
every  year,  instead  of  older  —  wise  child  !  " 

This  was  great  good  fortune,  to  find  a  customer 
who  knew  all  the  virtues  of  the  article  in  advance. 
Rebecca  dimpled  more  and  more,  and  at  her  new 
friend's  invitation  sat  down  on  a  stool  at  his  side 
near  the  edge  of  the  porch.  The  beauties  of  the 
ornamental  box  which  held  the  Rose-Red  were  dis 
closed,  and  the  prices  of  both  that  and  the  S now- 
White  were  unfolded.  Presently  she  forgot  all 
about  her  silent  partner  at  the  gate  and  was  talking 
as  if  she  had  known  this  grand  personage  all  her 
life 

"  I  'm  keeping  house  to-day,  but  I  don't  live  here," 
explained  the  delightful  gentleman.  "I  'm  just  on 
a  visit  to  my  aunt,  who  has  gone  to  Portland. 


142  REBECCA 

I  used  to  be  here  as  a  boy,  and  I  am  very  fond  of 
the  spot." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  takes  the  place  of  the 
farm  where  one  lived  when  one  was  a  child,"  ob 
served  Rebecca,  nearly  bursting  with  pride  at  having 
at  last  successfully  used  the  indefinite  pronoun  in 
general  conversation. 

The  man  darted  a  look  at  her  and  put  down  his 
ear  of  corn.  "  So  you  consider  your  childhood  a 
thing  of  the  past,  do  you,  young  lady  ? " 

"I  can  still  remember  it,"  answered  Rebecca 
gravely,  "  though  it  seems  a  long  time  ago," 

"  I  can  remember  mine  well  enough,  and  a  par 
ticularly  unpleasant  one  it  was,"  said  the  stranger. 

"So  was  mine,"  sighed  Rebecca.  "What  was 
your  worst  trouble  ?  " 

"  Lack  of  food  and  clothes  principally." 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Rebecca  sympathetically,  — 
"mine  was  no  shoes  and  too  many  babies  and  not 
enough  books.  But  you  're  all  right  and  happy 
now,  are  n't  you  ?  "  she  asked  doubtfully,  for  though 
he  looked  handsome,  well-fed,  and  prosperous,  any 
child  could  see  that  his  eyes  were  tired  and  his 
mouth  was  sad  when  he  was  not  speaking. 

"I'm  doing  pretty  well,  thank  you,"  said  the 
man,  with  a  delightful  smile.  "  Now  tell  me,  how 
much  soap  ought  I  to  buy  to-day  ? " 

"  How  much  has  your  aunt  on  hand  now  ? "  sug 
gested  the  very  modest  and  inexperienced  agent; 
"and  how  much  would  she  need  ? " 


REBECCA  143 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that ;  soap  keeps, 
does  n't  it  ? " 

"  I  'm  not  certain,"  said  Rebecca  conscientiously, 
*  but  I  '11  look  in  the  circular  —  it 's  sure  to  tell ;  " 
and  she  drew  the  document  from  her  pocket. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  magnificent 
profits  you  get  from  this  business  ? " 

''We  are  not  selling  for  our  own  benefit,"  said 
Rebecca  confidentially.  "My  friend  who  is  hold 
ing  the  horse  at  the  gate  is  the  daughter  of  a  very 
rich  blacksmith,  and  does  n't  need  any  money.  I 
am  poor,  but  I  live  with  my  aunts  in  a  brick  house, 
and  of  course  they  would  n't  like  me  to  be  a  ped 
dler.  We  are  trying  to  get  a  premium  for  some 
friends  of  ours." 

Rebecca  had  never  thought  of  alluding  to  the  cir 
cumstances  with  her  previous  customers,  but  unex 
pectedly  she  found  herself  describing  Mr.  Simpson, 
Mrs.  Simpson,  and  the  Simpson  family ;  their  pov 
erty,  their  joyless  life,  and  their  abject  need  of  a 
banquet  lamp  to  brighten  their  existence. 

"  You  need  n't  argue  that  point,"  laughed  the 
man,  as  he  stood  up  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  "  rich 
blacksmith's  daughter  "  at  the  gate.  "  I  can  see  that 
they  ought  to  have  it  if  they  want  it,  and  especially 
if  you  want  them  to  have  it.  I  've  known  what  it  was 
myself  to  do  without  a  banquet  lamp.  Now  give  me 
the  circular,  and  let 's  do  some  figuring.  How  much 
do  the  Simpsons  lack  at  this  moment  ? " 


144  REBECCA 

"  If  they  sell  two  hundred  more  cakes  this  month 
and  next,  they  can  have  the  lamp  by  Christmas," 
Rebecca  answered,  "and,  they  can  _get  a  shade  by 
summer  time  ;  but  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  help  very  much 
after  to-day,  because  my  aunt  Miranda  may  not  like 
to  have  me." 

"  I__see.  ^11  Jhat_!s_a]l^  right.  I  '11  take  three 
hundred  cakes,  and  that  will  give  them  shade  and 


had  Jbejen  seated  on  a  stool  very  near  to 
the  edge  of  the  porch,  and  at  this  remark  she  made 
a  sudden  movement,  tipped  over,  and  disappeared 
into  a  clump  of  lilac  bushes.  It  was  a  very  short  dis 
tance,  fortunately,  and  the  amused  capitalist  picked 
her  up,  set  her  on  her  feet,  and  brushed  her  off. 
"  You  should  never  seem  surprised  when  you  have 
taken  a  large  order,"  said  he;  "you  ought  to  have 
replied  '  Can't  you  make  it  three  hundred  and  fifty  ?  ' 
instead  of  capsizing  in  that  unbusinesslike  way.'2" 

"  Oh,  I  could  never  say  anything  like  that  L"  ex 
claimed  Rebecca,  who  was  blushing  crimson  at  her 
awkward  fall.  "  But  it  does  n't  seem  right  for  you 
to  buy  so  much.  Are  you  sure  you  can  afford  it  ?  " 

"  If  I  can't,  I  '11  save  on  something^else,"  returned 
the  jocose  philanthropist. 

"  What  if  your  aunt  should  n't  like  the  kind  of 
soap,?  "  queried  Rebecca  nervously. 

**  My^aunt  always  likes  what  IJike,"  he  returned. 

*  Mine  doesn't!"  exclaimed  Rebecca. 


REBECCA  i45 

•'Then  there 's  something  wrong  with  your  aunt  I " 

"Or  with  me,"  laughed  Rebecca 

"  What  is  your  name,  young  lady  ?  " 

"Rebecca  Rowena  Randall,  sir." 

"What?  "  with  an  amused  smile.  "  R&tfj,  ?  Your 
mother  was  generous." 

"  She  could  n't  bear  to  give  up  either  of  the 
names  she  says." 

"  DojyoiLwant  to  hrarjny_Dame  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  know  already,"  answered  Rebecca,  with 
a  bright  glance.  "  I  'm  sure  you  must  be  Mr.  Alad- 
dir£jn^Jiie_Aiabian_Nights.  OhjjDlease,  can  I  run 
down  and  tell  Emma  Jane  ?  She  must  be  so  tired 
waiting,  and-shc  will  be  so  glad.!"— 

At  the  man's  nod  of  assent  Rebecca  sped  down 
the  lane,  crying  irrepressibly  as  she  neared  the 
wagon,  "  Oh,  Emma  Jane  1  Emma  Jane  !  we  are  sold 
out !  " 

Mr.  Aladdin  followed  smilingly  to  corroborate 
this  astonishing,  unbelievable  statement ;  lifted  all 
their  boxes  from  the  back  of  the  wagon,  and  tak 
ing  the  circular,  promised  to  write  to  the  Excelsior 
Company  that  night  concerning  the  premium. 

"  If  you  could  contrive  to  keep  a  secret,  —  you 
two  little  girls,  —  it  would  be  rather  a  nice  surprise 
to  have  the  lamp  arrive  at  the  Simpsons'  on  Thanks 
giving  Day,  would  n't  it  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  tucked 
the  old  lap  robe  cosily  over  their  feet. 

They  gladly  assented,  and  broke  into  a  chorus  of 


146  REBECCA 

excited  thanks,  during  which  tears  of  joy  stood  in 
Rebecca's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it !  "  laughed  Mr.  Aladdin, 
lifting  his  hat.  "  I  was  a  sort  of  commercial  trav 
eler  myself  once,  —  years  ago,  —  and  I  like  to  see 
the  thing  well  done.  Good-by.  Miss  Rebecca  Row- 
ena !  Just  let  me  know  whenever  you  have  anything 
to  sell,  for  I  'm  certain  beforehand  I  shall  want  it." 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Aladdin!  I  surely  will!"  cried 
Rebecca,  tossing  back  her  dark  braids  delightedly 
and  waving  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  Rebecca ! "  said  Emma  Jane  in  an  awe 
struck  whisper.  "  He  raised  his  hat  to  us,  and  we 
not  thirteen !  It  '11  be  five  years  before  we  're 
ladies/' 

"  Never  mind,"  answered  Rebecca  ;  "  we  are  the 
beginnings  of  ladies,  even  now." 

"He  tucked  the  lap  robe  round  us,  too,"  con 
tinued  Emma  Jane,  in  an  ecstasy  of  reminiscence. 
"  Oh  !  is  n't  he  perfectly  elergant  ?  And  was  n't  it 
lovely  of  him  to  buy  us  out  ?  And  just  think  of 
having  both  the  lamp  and  the  shade  for  one  day's 
work !  Are  n't  you  glad  you  wore  your  pink  ging 
ham  now,  even  if  mother  did  make  you  put  on 
flannel  underneath  ?  You  do  look  so  pretty  in  pink 
and  red,  Rebecca,  and  so  homely  in  drab  and 
brown ! " 

"  I  know  it,"  sighed  Rebecca.  "  I  wish  I  was 
like  you — pretty  in  all  colors!"  And  Rebecca 


REBECCA  147 

locked  longingly  at  Emma  Jane's  fat,  rosy  cheeks  ; 
at  her  blue  eyes,  which  said  nothing ;  at  her  neat 
nose,  which  had  no  character ;  at  her  red  lips,  from 
between  which  no  word  worth  listening  to  had  ever 
issued. 

"  Never  mind  ! "  said  Emma  Jane  comfortingly. 
"  Everybody  says  you  're  awful  bright  and  smart,  and 
mother  thinks  you  '11  be  better  looking  all  the  time 
as  you  grow  older.  You  would  n't  believe  it,  but  I 
was  a  dreadful  homely  baby,  and  homely  right  along 
till  just  a  year  or  two  ago,  when  my  red  hair  began 
to  grow  dark.  What  was  the  nice  man's  name  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  to  ask  !  "  ejaculated  Rebecca. 
"Aunt  Miranda  would  say  that  was  just  like  me, 
and  it  is.  But  I  called  him  Mr.  Aladdin  because  he 
gave  us  a  lamp.  You  know  the  story  of  Aladdin  and 
the  wonderful  lamp  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Rebecca !  how  could  you  call  him  a  nick 
name  the  very  first  time  you  ever  saw  him  ? " 

"  Aladdin  is  n't  a  nickname  exactly  ;  anyway,  he 
laughed  and  seemed  to  like  it." 

By  dint  of  superhuman  effort,  and  putting  such 
a  seal  upon  their  lips  as  never  mortals  put  before, 
the  two  girls  succeeded  in  keeping  their  wonderful 
news  to  themselves  ;  although  it  was  obvious  to  ail 
beholders  that  they  were  in  an  extraordinary  and 
abnormal  state  of  mind. 

On  Thanksgiving  the  lamp  arrived  in  a  large 
packing  box,  and  was  taken  out  and  set  up  by  See- 


148  REBECCA 

saw  Simpson,  who  suddenly  began  to  admire  and 
respect  the  business  ability  of  his  sisters.  Rebecca 
had  heard  the  news  of  its  arrival,  but  waited  until 
nearly  dark  before  asking  permission  to  go  to  the 
Simpsons',  so  that  she  might  see  the  gorgeous 
trophy  lighted  and  sending  a  blaze  of  crimson 
glory  through  its  red  crepe  paper  shade. 


XV 

THE   BANQUET   LAMP 

THERE  had  been  company  at  the  brick 
house  to  the  bountiful  Thanksgiving 
dinner  which  had  been  provided  at  one 
o'clock, — the  Burnham  sisters,  who  lived  between 
North  Riverboro  and  Shaker  Village,  and  who  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  come  to  pass 
the  holiday  with  the  Sawyers  every  year.  Rebecca 
sat  silent  with  a  book  after  the  dinner  dishes  were 
washed,  and  when  it  was  nearly  five  asked  if  she 
might  go  to  the  Simpsons'. 

"  What  do  you  want  *.o  run  after  those  Simpson 
children  for  on  a  Thanksgiving  Day  ?  "  queried  Miss 
Miranda.  "  Can't  you  set  still  for  once  and  listen 
to  the  improvin'  conversation  of  your  elders  ?  You 
never  can  let  well  enough  alone,  but  want  to  be  for 
ever  on  the  move." 

"  The  Simpsons  have  a  new  lamp,  and  Emma 
Jane  and  I  promised  to  go  up  and  see  it  lighted, 
and  make  it  a  kind  of  a  party." 

"  What  under  the  canopy  did  they  want  of  a 
lamp,  and  where  did  they  get  the  money  to  pay  for 
it  ?  If  Abner  was  at  home,  I  should  think  he  'd  been 
swappin'  again,"  said  Miss  Miranda. 

"  The  children  got  it  as  a  prize  for  selling  soap," 


ISO  REBECCA 

replied  Rebecca ;  "  they  've  been  working  for  a  year, 
and  you  know  I  told  you  that  Emma  Jane  and  I 
helped  them  the  Saturday  afternoon  you  were  in 
Portland." 

"  I  did  n't  take  notice,  I  s'pose,  for  it 's  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  the  lamp  mentioned.  Well,  you 
can  go  for  an  hour,  and  no  more.  Remember  it 's 
as  dark  at  six  as  it  is  at  midnight  Would  you  like 
to  take  along  some  Baldwin  apples  ?  What  have 
you  got  in  the  pocket  of  that  new  dress  that  makes 
it  sag  down  so  ? " 

"  It 's  my  nuts  and  raisins  from  dinner,"  replied 
Rebecca,  who  never  succeeded  in  keeping  the  most 
innocent  action  a  secret  from  her  aunt  Miranda ; 
"they  're  just  what  you  gave  me  on  my  plate." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  eat  them  ?  " 

"  Because  I  'd  had  enough  dinner,  and  I  thought 
if  I  saved  these,  it  would  make  the  Simpsons' 
party  better,"  stammered  Rebecca,  who  hated  to 
be  scolded  and  examined  before  company. 

"They  were  your  own,  Rebecca,"  interposed 
aunt  Jane,  "  and  if  you  chose  to  save  them  to  give 
away,  it  is  all  right.  We  ought  never  to  let  this  day 
pass  without  giving  our  neighbors  something  to  be 
thankful  for,  instead  of  taking  all  the  time  to  think 
of  our  own  mercies." 

The  Burnham  sisters  nodded  approvingly  as  Re 
becca  went  out,  and  remarked  that  they  had  never 
seen  a  child  grow  and  improve  so  fast  in  so  short  a 
time. 


REBECCA  151 

"  There 's  plenty  of  room  left  for  more  improve 
ment,  as  you  'd  know  if  she  lived  in  the  same  house 
with  you,"  answered  Miranda.  "  She  's  into  every 
namable  thing  in  the  neighborhood,  an'  not  only 
into  it,  but  generally  at  the  head  an'  front  of  it, 
especially  when  it 's  mischief.  Of  all  the  foolishness 
I  ever  heard  of,  that  lamp  beats  everything ;  it 's 
just  like  those  Simpsons,  but  I  did  n't  suppose  the 
children  had  brains  enough  to  sell  anything." 

"  One  of  them  must  have,"  said  Miss  Ellen  Burn- 
ham,  "for  the  girl  that  was  selling  soap  at  the 
Ladds'  in  North  Riverboro  was  described  by  Adam 
Ladd  as  the  most  remarkable  and  winning  child  he 
ever  saw." 

"  It  must  have  been  Clara  Belle,  and  I  should 
never  call  her  remarkable,"  answered  Miss  Miranda. 
"  Has  Adam  been  home  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he 's  been  staying  a  few  days  with  his  aunt. 
There  's  no  limit  to  the  money  he  's  making,  they 
say ;  and  he  always  brings  presents  for  all  the 
neighbors.  This  time  it  was  a  full  set  of  furs  for 
Mrs.  Ladd ;  and  to  think  we  can  remember  the 
time  he  was  a  barefoot  boy  without  two  shirts  to  his 
back  !  It  is  strange  he  has  n't  married,  with  all  his 
money,  and  him  so  fond  of  children  that  he  always 
has  a  pack  of  them  at  his  heels." 

"There's  hope  for  him  still,  though,"  said  Miss 
Jane  smilingly  ;  "for  I  don't  s'pose  he  's  more  than 
thirty." 


152  REBECCA 

"  He  could  get  a  wife  in  Riverboro  if  he  was  a 
hundred  and  thirty,"  remarked  Miss  Miranda. 

"Adam's  aunt  says  he  was  so  taken  with  the  little 
girl  that  sold  the  soap  (Clara  Belle,  did  you  say  her 
name  was  ?),  that  he  declared  he  was  going  to  bring 
her  a  Christmas  present,"  continued  Miss  Ellen. 

"  Well,  there 's  no  accountin'  for  tastes,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Miranda.  "  Clara  Belle  's  got  cross-eyes  and 
red  hair,  but  I  'd  be  the  last  one  to  grudge  her  a 
Christmas  present ;  the  more  Adam  Ladd  gives  to 
her  the  less  the  town  '11  have  to." 

"  Is  n't  there  another  Simpson  girl  ? "  asked  Miss 
Lydia  Burnham  ;  "  for  this  one  could  n't  have  been 
cross-eyed  ;  I  remember  Mrs.  Ladd  saying  Adam  re 
marked  about  this  child's  handsome  eyes.  He  said 
k  was  her  eyes  that  made  him  buy  the  three  hun 
dred  cakes.  Mrs.  Ladd  has  it  stacked  up  in  the  shed 
chamber." 

"Three  hundred  cakes!"  ejaculated  Miranda. 
"  Well,  there 's  one  crop  that  never  fails  in  River 
boro!" 

"  What 's  that  ? "  asked  Miss  Lydia  politely. 

"The  fool  crop,"  responded  Miranda  tersely,  and 
changed  the  subject,  much  to  Jane's  gratitude,  for 
she  had  been  nervous  and  ill  at  ease  for  the  last  fif 
teen  minutes.  What  child  in  Riverboro  could  be 
described  as  remarkable  and  winning,  save  Rebecca? 
What  child  had  wonderful  eyes,  except  the  same 
Rebecca  ?  and  finally,  was  there  ever  a  child  in  the 


REBECCA  153 

world  who  could  make  a  man  buy  soap  by  the  hun 
dred  cakes,  save  Rebecca  ? 

Meantime  the  "  remarkable  "  child  had  flown  up 
the  road  in  the  deepening  dusk,  but  she  had  not 
gone  far  before  she  heard  the  sound  of  hurrying 
footsteps,  and  saw  a  well-known  figure  coming  in 
her  direction.  In  a  moment  she  and  Emma  Jane 
met  and  exchanged  a  breathless  embrace. 

"  Something  awful  has  happened,"  panted  Emma 
Jane. 

"  Don't  tell  me  it 's  broken,"  exclaimed  Rebecca. 

"  No  !  oh,  no  !  not  that !  It  was  packed  in  straw, 
and  every  piece  came  out  all  right ;  and  I  was  there, 
and  I  never  said  a  single  thing  about  your  selling 
the  three  hundred  cakes  that  got  the  lamp,  so  that 
we  could  be  together  when  you  told." 

"  Our  selling  the  three  hundred  cakes,"  corrected 
Rebecca  ;  "  you  did  as  much  as  I." 

"No,  I  did  n't,  Rebecca  Randall.  I  j ust  sat  at  the 
gate  and  held  the  horse." 

"  Yes,  but  whose  horse  was  it  that  took  us  to 
North  Riverboro?  And  besides,  it  just  happened 
to  be  my  turn.  If  you  had  gone  in  and  found  Mr. 
Aladdin  you  would  have  had  the  wonderful  lamp 
given  to  you  ;  but  what 's  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  The  Simpsons  have  no  kerosene  and  no  wicks. 
I  guess  they  thought  a  banquet  lamp  was  some 
thing  that  lighted  itself,  and  burned  without  any 
help.  Seesaw  has  gone  to  the  doctor's  to  try  if  he 


154  REBECCA 

can  borrow  a  wick,  and  mother  let  me  have  a  pint 
of  oil,  but  she  says  she  won't  give  me  any  more. 
We  never  thought  of  the  expense  of  keeping  up 
the  lamp,  Rebecca." 

"  No,  we  did  n't,  but  let 's  not  worry  about  that 
till  after  the  party.  I  have  a  handful  of  nuts  and 
raisins  and  some  apples." 

"I  have  peppermints  and  maple  sugar,"  said 
Emma  Jane.  "  They  had  a  real  Thanksgiving  din 
ner  ;  the  doctor  gave  them  sweet  potatoes  and  cran 
berries  and  turnips  ;  father  sent  a  spare-rib,  and  Mrs. 
Cobb  a  chicken  and  a  jar  of  mince-meat." 

At  half  past  five  one  might  have  looked  in  at 
the  Simpsons'  windows,  and  seen  the  party  at  its 
height.  Mrs.  Simpson  had  let  the  kitchen  fire  die 
out,  and  had  brought  the  baby  to  grace  the  festal 
scene.  The  lamp  seemed  to  be  having  the  party, 
and  receiving  the  guests.  The  children  had  taken 
the  one  small  table  in  the  house,  and  it  was  placed 
in  the  far  corner  of  the  room  to  serve  as  a  pedestal. 
On  it  stood  the  sacred,  the  adored,  the  long-desired 
object ;  almost  as  beautiful,  and  nearly  half  as  large 
as  the  advertisement.  The  brass  glistened  like  gold, 
and  the  crimson  paper  shade  glowed  like  a  giant 
ruby.  In  the  wide  splash  of  light  that  it  flung  upon 
the  floor  sat  the  Simpsons,  in  reverent  and  solemn 
silence,  Emma  Jane  standing  behind  them,  hand  in 
hand  with  Rebecca.  There  seemed  to  be  no  desire 
for  conversation ;  the  occasion  was  too  thrilling  and 


REBECCA  155 

serious  for  that.  The  lamp,  it  was  tacitly  felt  by 
everybody,  was  dignifying  the  party,  and  provid 
ing  sufficient  entertainment  simply  by  its  presence  ; 
being  fully  as  satisfactory  in  its  way  as  a  pianola  or 
a  string  band. 

"  I  wish  father  could  see  it,"  said  Clara  Belle 
loyally. 

"If  he  onth  thaw  it  he'd  want  to  thwap  it," 
murmured  Susan  sagaciously. 

At  the  appointed  hour  Rebecca  dragged  herself 
reluctantly  away  from  the  enchanting  scene. 

"  I  '11  turn  the  lamp  out  the  minute  I  think  you 
and  Emma  Jane  are  home,"  said  Clara  Belle. 
"  And,  oh  !  I  'm  so  glad  you  both  live  where  you 
can  see  it  shine  from  our  windows.  I  wonder  how 
long  it  will  burn  without  bein'  filled  if  I  only  keep 
it  lit  one  hour  every  night  ?  " 

"  You  need  n't  put  it  out  for  want  o'  karosene," 
said  Seesaw,  coming  in  from  the  shed,  "  for  there 's 
a  great  kag  of  it  settin'  out  there.  Mr.  Tubbs 
brought  it  over  from  North  Riverboro  and  said 
somebody  sent  an  order  by  mail  for  it." 

Rebecca  squeezed  Emma  Jane's  arm,  and  Emma 
Jane  gave  a  rapturous  return  squeeze.  "  It  was  Mr. 
Aladdin,"  whispered  Rebecca,  as  they  ran  down 
the  path  to  the  gate.  Seesaw  followed  them  and 
handsomely  offered  to  see  them  "apiece"  down 
the  road,  but  Rebecca  declined  his  escort  with 
such  decision  that  he  did  not  press  the  matter,  but 


156  REBECCA 

went  to  bed  to  dream  of  her  instead.  In  his  dreams 
flashes  of  lightning  proceeded  from  both  her  eyes, 
and  she  held  a  flaming  sword  in  either  hand. 

Rebecca  entered  the  home  dining-room  joyously. 
The  Burnham  sisters  had  gone  and  the  two  aunts 
were  knitting. 

"  It  was  a  heavenly  party,"  she  cried,  taking  off 
her  hat  and  cape. 

"Go  back  and  see  if  you  have  shut  the  door 
tight,  and  then  lock  it,"  said  Miss  Miranda,  in  her 
usual  austere  manner. 

"  It  was  a  heavenly  party,"  reiterated  Rebecca, 
coming  in  again,  much  too  excited  to  be  easily 
crushed,  "and  oh!  aunt  Jane,  aunt  Miranda,  if 
you  '11  only  come  into  the  kitchen  and  look  out  of 
the  sink  window,  you  can  see  the  banquet  lamp 
shining  all  red,  just  as  if  the  Simpsons'  house  was 
on  fire." 

"And  probably  it  will  be  before  long,"  observed 
Miranda.  "  I  've  got  no  patience  with  such  foolish 
goin's-on." 

Jane  accompanied  Rebecca  into  the  kitchen. 
Although  the  feeble  glimmer  which  she  was  able 
to  see  from  that  distance  did  not  seem  to  her  a 
dazzling  exhibition,  she  tried  to  be  as  enthusiastic 
as  possible. 

"  Rebecca,  who  was  it  that  sold  the  three  hun 
dred  cakes  of  soap  to  Mr.  Ladd  in  North  River- 
boro?" 


REBECCA  157 

"Mr.  Who  f  "  exclaimed  Rebecca. 

"Mr.  Ladd,  in  North  Riverboro." 

"Is  that  his  real  name?"  queried  Rebecca  in 
astonishment.  "  I  did  n't  make  a  bad  guess  ; "  and 
she  laughed  softly  to  herself. 

"  I  asked  you  who  sold  the  soap  to  Adam 
Ladd  ? "  resumed  Miss  Jane. 

"Adam  Ladd  1  then  he's  A.  Ladd,  too;  what 
fun  ! " 

"Answer  me,  Rebecca." 

"  Oh !  excuse  me,  aunt  Jane,  I  was  so  busy 
thinking.  Emma  Jane  and  I  sold  the  soap  to  Mr. 
Ladd." 

"  Did  you  tease  him,  or  make  him  buy  it  ? " 

"Now,  aunt  Jane,  how  could  I  make  a  big 
grown-up  man  buy  anything  if  he  did  n't  want  to  ? 
He  needed  the  soap  dreadfully  as  a  present  for  his 
aunt." 

Miss  Jane  still  looked  a  little  unconvinced, 
though  she  only  said,  "I  hope  your  aunt  Miranda 
won't  mind,  but  you  know  how  particular  she  is, 
Rebecca,  and  I  really  wish  you  would  n't  do  any 
thing  out  of  the  ordinary  without  asking  her  first, 
for  your  actions  are  very  queer." 

"There  can't  be  anything  wrong  this  time," 
Rebecca  answered  confidently.  "  Emma  Jane  sold 
her  cakes  to  her  own  relations  and  to  uncle  Jerry 
Cobb,  and  I  went  first  to  those  new  tenements  near 
the  lumber  mill,  and  then  to  the  Ladds*.  Mr.  Ladd 


REBECCA 

bought  all  we  had  and  made  us  promise  to  keep 
the  secret  until  the  premium  came,  and  I  've  been 
going  about  ever  since  as  if  the  banquet  lamp  was 
inside  of  me  all  lighted  up  and  burning,  for  every 
body  to  see." 

Rebecca's  hair  was  loosened  and  falling  over  her 
forehead  in  ruffled  waves ;  her  eyes  were  brilliant, 
her  cheeks  crimson;  there  was  a  hint  of  every 
thing  in  the  girl's  face,  —  of  sensitiveness  and  deli 
cacy  as  well  as  of  ardor ;  there  was  the  sweetness 
of  the  mayflower  and  the  strength  of  the  young 
oak,  but  one  could  easily  divine  that  she  was  one  of 

"  The  souls  by  nature  pitched  too  high, 
By  suffering  plunged  too  low." 

"That 's  just  the  way  you  look,  for  all  the  world 
as  if  you  did  have  a  lamp  burning  inside  of  you," 
sighed  aunt  Jane.  "Rebecca!  Rebecca!  I  wish 
you  could  take  things  easier,  child ;  I  am  fearful 
for  you  sometimes." 


XVI 

SEASONS   OF  GROWTH 

THE  days  flew  by;  as  summer  had  melted 
into  autumn  so  autumn  had  given  place  to 
winter.  Life  in  the  brick  house  had  gone 
on  more  placidly  of  late,  for  Rebecca  was  honestly 
trying  to  be  more  careful  in  the  performance  of  her 
tasks  and  duties  as  well  as  more  quiet  in  her  plays, 
and  she  was  slowly  learning  the  power  of  the  soft 
answer  in  turning  away  wrath. 

Miranda  had  not  had,  perhaps,  quite  as  many 
opportunities  in  which  to  lose  her  temper,  but  it  is 
only  just  to  say  that  she  had  not  fully  availed  herself 
of  all  that  had  offered  themselves, 

There  had  been  one  outburst  of  righteous  wrath 
occasioned  by  Rebecca's  over -hospitable  habits, 
which  were  later  shown  in  a  still  more  dramatic  and 
unexpected  fashion. 

On  a  certain  Friday  afternoon  she  asked  her  aunt 
Miranda  if  she  might  take  half  her  bread  and  milk 
upstairs  to  a  friend. 

"  What  friend  have  you  got  up  there,  for  pity's 
sake  ?  "  demanded  aunt  Miranda. 

"  The  Simpson  baby,  come  to  stay  over  Sunday  ; 
that  is,  if  you  're  willing,  Mrs.  Simpson  says  she  is. 


160  REBECCA 

Shall  I  bring  her  down  and  show  her  ?  She 's  dressed 
in  an  old  dress  of  Emma  Jane's  and  she  looks  sweet." 

"  You  can  bring  her  down,  but  you  can't  show 
her  to  me !  You  can  smuggle  her  out  the  way  you 
smuggled  her  in  and  take  her  back  to  her  mother. 
Where  on  earth  do  you  get  your  notions,  borrowing 
a  baby  for  Sunday  !  " 

"  You  're  so  used  to  a  house  without  a  baby  you 
don't  know  how  dull  it  is,"  sighed  Rebecca  resign 
edly,  as  she  moved  towards  the  door ;  "  but  at  the 
farm  there  was  always  a  nice  fresh  one  to  play  with 
and  cuddle.  There  were  too  many,  but  that 's  not 
half  as  bad  as  none  at  all.  Well,  I  '11  take  her  back. 
She  '11  be  dreadfully  disappointed  and  so  will  Mrs. 
Simpson.  She  was  planning  to  go  to  Milltown." 

"  She  can  un-plan  then,"  observed  Miss  Miranda. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  go  up  there  and  take  care  of  the 
baby  ? "  suggested  Rebecca.  "  I  brought  her  home 
so  't  I  could  do  my  Saturday  work  just  the  same." 

"  You  've  got  enough  to  do  right  here,  without 
any  borrowed  babies  to  make  more  steps.  Now,  no 
answering  back,  just  give  the  child  some  supper  and 
carry  it  home  where  it  belongs." 

"  You  don't  want  me  to  go  down  the  front  way, 
hadn't  I  better  just  come  through  this  room  and 
let  you  look  at  her  ?  She  has  yellow  hair  and  big 
blue  eyes !  Mrs.  Simpson  says  she  takes  after  her 
father." 

Miss   Miranda  smiled  acidly  as  she    said  she 


REBECCA  *>i 

could  n't  take  after  her  father,  for  he  'd  take  any 
thing  there  was  before  she  got  there ! 

Aunt  Jane  was  in  the  linen  closet  upstairs,  sort 
ing  out  the  clean  sheets  and  pillow  cases  for  Satur 
day,  and  Rebecca  sought  comfort  from  her. 

"  I  brought  the  Simpson  baby  home,  aunt  Jane, 
thinking  it  would  help  us  over  a  dull  Sunday,  but 
aunt  Miranda  won't  let  her  stay.  Emma  Jane  has 
the  promise  of  her  next  Sunday  and  Alice  Robinson 
the  next.  Mrs.  Simpson  wanted  I  should  have  her 
first  because  I  've  had  so  much  experience  in  babies. 
Come  in  and  look  at  her  sitting  up  in  my  bed,  aunt 
Jane !  Is  n't  she  lovely  ?  She  's  the  fat,  gurgly 
kind,  not  thin  and  fussy  like  some  babies,  and  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  have  her  to  undress  and 
dress  twice  each  day.  Oh  dear !  I  wish  I  could 
have  a  printed  book  with  everything  set  down  in  it 
that  I  could do,  and  then  I  would  n't  get  disappointed 
so  often." 

"  No  book  could  be  printed  that  would  fit  you, 
Rebecca,"  answered  aunt  Jane,  "  for  nobody  could 
imagine  beforehand  the  things  you  'd  want  to  do. 
Are  you  going  to  carry  that  heavy  child  home  in 
your  arms  ?  " 

"  No,  I  'm  going  to  drag  her  in  the  little 
soap-wagon.  Come,  baby  !  Take  your  thumb  out  of 
your  mouth  and  come  to  ride  with  Becky  in  your 
go-cart."  She  stretched  out  her  strong  young  arms 
to  the  crowing  baby,  sat  down  in  a  chair  with  the 


162  REBECCA 

child,  turned  her  upside  down  unceremoniously, 
took  from  her  waistband  and  scornfully  flung  away 
a  crooked  pin,  walked  with  her  (still  in  a  highly 
reversed  position)  to  the  bureau,  selected  a  large 
safety  pin,  and  proceeded  to  attach  her  brief  red 
flannel  petticoat  to  a  sort  of  shirt  that  she  wore. 
Whether  flat  on  her  stomach,  or  head  down,  heels 
in  the  air,  the  Simpson  baby  knew  she  was  in  the 
hands  of  an  expert,  and  continued  gurgling  placidly 
while  aunt  Jane  regarded  the  pantomime  with  a 
kind  of  dazed  awe. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  Rebecca,"  she  ejaculated,  "  it 
beats  all  how  handy  you  are  with  babies  ! " 

"I  ought  to  be;  I've  brought  up  three  and  a 
half  of  'em/'  Rebecca  responded  cheerfully,  pulling 
up  the  infant  Simpson's  stockings. 

"  I  should  think  you  'd  be  fonder  of  dolls  than 
you  are,'7  said  Jane. 

"  I  do  like  them,  but  there 's  never  any  change 
in  a  doll ;  it 's  always  the  same  everlasting  old  doll, 
and  you  have  to  make  believe  it 's  cross  or  sick,  or 
it  loves  you,  or  can't  bear  you.  Babies  are  more 
trouble,  but  nicer." 

Miss  Jane  stretched  out  a  thin  hand  with  a  slen 
der,  worn  band  of  gold  on  the  finger,  and  the  baby 
curled  her  dimpled  fingers  round  it  and  held  it  fast. 

"You  wear  a  ring  on  your  engagement  finger, 
don't  you,  aunt  Jane  ?  Did  you  ever  think  about 
getting  married  ? " 


REBECCA  163 

"Yes,  dear,  long  ago." 

"  What  happened,  aunt  Jane  ? " 

"He  died  —  just  before." 

"  Oh  !  "   And  Rebecca's  eyes  grew  misty. 

"  He  was  a  soldier  and  he  died  of  a  gunshot 
wound,  in  a  hospital,  down  South." 

"  Oh  !   aunt  Jane  ! "  softly.    "  Away  from  you  ? " 

"No,  I  was  with  him." 

"  Was  he  young  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  young  and  brave  and  handsome,  Rebecca ; 
he  was  Mr.  Carter's  brother  Tom." 

"  Oh  !  I  'm  so  glad  you  were  with  him  !  Was  n't 
he  glad,  aunt  Jane  ? " 

Jane  looked  back  across  the  half-forgotten  years, 
and  the  vision  of  Tom's  gladness  flashed  upon  her : 
his  haggard  smile,  the  tears  in  his  tired  eyes,  his  out 
stretched  arms,  his  weak  voice  saying,  "  Oh,  Jenny ! 
Dear  Jenny  !  I  've  wanted  you  so,  Jenny  !  "  It  was 
too  much  !  She  had  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  be 
fore  to  a  human  creature,  for  there  was  no  one  who 
would  have  understood.  Now,  in  a  shamefaced  way, 
to  hide  her  brimming  eyes,  she  put  her  head  down 
on  the  young  shoulder  beside  her,  saying,  "  It  was 
hard,  Rebecca !  " 

The  Simpson  baby  had  cuddled  down  sleepily  in 
Rebecca's  lap,  leaning  her  head  back  and  sucking 
her  thumb  contentedly.  Rebecca  put  her  cheek 
down  until  it  touched  her  aunt's  gray  hair  and  softly 
patted  her,  as  she  said,  "  I  'm  sorry,  aunt  Jane ! " 


164  REBECCA. 

The  girl's  eyes  were  soft  and  tuider  and  the 
heart  within  her  stretched  a  little  and  grew  ;  grew 
in  sweetness  and  intuition  and  depth  of  feeling.  It 
had  looked  into  another  heart,  felt  it  beat,  and 
heard  it  sigh  ;  and  that  is  how  all  hearts  grow. 

Episodes  like  these  enlivened  the  quiet  course  of 
every-day  existence,  made  more  quiet  by  the  depar 
ture  of  Dick  Carter,  Living  Perkins,  and  Huldah 
Meserve  for  Wareham,  and  the  small  attendance  at 
the  winter  school,  from  which  the  younger  children 
of  the  place  stayed  away  during  the  cold  weather. 

Life,  however,  could  never  be  thoroughly  dull 
or  lacking  in  adventure  to  a  child  of  Rebecca's 
temperament.  Her  nature  was  full  of  adaptability, 
fluidity,  receptivity.  She  made  friends  everywhere 
she  went,  and  snatched  up  acquaintances  in  every 
corner. 

It  was  she  who  ran  to  the  shed  door  to  take  the 
dish  to  the  "  meat  man  "  or  "  fish  man  ;  "  she  who 
knew  the  family  histories  of  the  itinerant  fruit  ven 
ders  and  tin  peddlers  ;  she  who  was  asked  to  take 
supper  or  pass  the  night  with  children  in  neighbor 
ing  villages  —  children  of  whose  parents  her  aunts 
had  never  so  much  as  heard.  As  to  the  nature  of 
these  friendships,  which  seemed  so  many  to  the 
eye  of  the  superficial  observer,  they  were  of  vari 
ous  kinds,  and  while  the  girl  pursued  them  with 
enthusiasm  and  ardor,  they  left  her  unsatisfied  and 
heart-hungry ;  they  were  never  intimacies  such  as 


REBECCA  165 

are  so  readily  made  by  shallow  natures.  She  loved 
Emma  Jane,  but  it  was  a  friendship  born  of  propin 
quity  and  circumstance,  not  of  true  affinity.  It  was 
her  neighbor's  amiability,  constancy,  and  devotion 
that  she  loved,  and  although  she  rated  these  quali 
ties  at  their  true  value,  she  was  always  searching 
beyond  them  for  intellectual  treasures ;  searching 
and  never  finding,  for  although  Emma  Jane  had 
the  advantage  in  years  she  was  still  immature. 
Huldah  Meserve  had  an  instinctive  love  of  fun 
which  appealed  to  Rebecca  ;  she  also  had  a  fasci 
nating  knowledge  of  the  world,  from  having  visited 
her  married  sisters  in  Milltown  and  Portland ;  but 
on  the  other  hand  there  was  a  certain  sharpness 
and  lack  of  sympathy  in  Huldah  which  repelled 
rather  than  attracted.  With  Dick  Carter  she  could 
at  least  talk  intelligently  about  lessons.  He  was  a 
very  ambitious  boy,  full  of  plans  for  his  future,  which 
he  discussed  quite  freely  with  Rebecca,  but  when 
she  broached  the  subject  of  her  future  his  interest 
sensibly  lessened.  Into  the  world  of  the  ideal  Emma 
Jane,  Huldah,  and  Dick  alike  never  seemed  to  have 
peeped,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  was  always  a 
fixed  gulf  between  them  and  Rebecca, 

"Uncle  Jerry"  and  "aunt  Sarah"  Cobb  were 
dear  friends  of  quite  another  sort,  a  very  satisfying 
and  perhaps  a  somewhat  dangerous  one.  A  visit 
from  Rebecca  always  sent  them  into  a  twitter  of 
delight.  Her  merry  conversation  and  quaint  corn- 


166  REBECCA 

ments  on  life  in  general  fairly  dazzled  the  old  couple, 
who  hung  on  her  lightest  word  as  if  it  had  been 
a  prophet's  utterance ;  and  Rebecca,  though  she 
had  had  no  previous  experience,  owned  to  herself  a 
perilous  pleasure  in  being  dazzling,  even  to  a  couple 
of  dear  humdrum  old  people  like  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cobb. 
Aunt  Sarah  flew  to  the  pantry  or  cellar  whenever 
Rebecca's  slim  little  shape  first  appeared  on  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  and  a  jelly  tart  or  a  frosted  cake  was  sure 
to  be  forthcoming.  The  sight  of  old  uncle  Jerry's 
spare  figure  in  its  clean  white  shirt  sleeves,  what 
ever  the  weather,  always  made  Rebecca's  heart  warm 
when  she  saw  him  peer  longingly  from  the  kitchen 
window.  Before  the  snow  came,  many  was  the  time 
he  had  come  out  to  sit  on  a  pile  of  boards  at  the 
gate,  to  see  if  by  any  chance  she  was  mounting  the 
hill  that  led  to  their  house.  In  the  autumn  Rebecca 
was  often  the  old  man's  companion  while  he  was 
digging  potatoes  or  shelling  beans,  and  now  in  the 
winter,  when  a  younger  man  was  driving  the  stage, 
she  sometimes  stayed  with  him  while  he  did  his 
evening  milking.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  he  was  the 
only  creature  in  Riverboro  who  possessed  Rebecca's 
entire  confidence ;  the  only  being  to  whom  she 
poured  out  her  whole  heart,  with  its  wealth  of  hopes, 
and  dreams,  and  vague  ambitions.  At  the  brick 
house  she  practiced  scales  and  exercises,  but  at  the 
Cobbs'  cabinet  organ  she  sang  like  a  bird,  improvis 
ing  simple  accompaniments  that  seemed  to  her 


REBECCA  16; 

ignorant  auditors  nothing  short  of  marvelous.  Here 
she  was  happy,  here  she  was  loved,  here  she  was 
drawn  out  of  herself  and  admired  and  made  much 
of.  But,  she  thought,  if  there  were  somebody  who 
not  only  loved  but  understood  ;  who  spoke  her  lan 
guage,  comprehended  her  desires,  and  responded  to 
her  mysterious  longings !  Perhaps  in  the  big  world 
of  Wareham  there  would  be  people  who  thought 
and  dreamed  and  wondered  as  she  did. 

In  reality  Jane  did  not  understand  her  niece  very 
much  better  than  Miranda ;  the  difference  between 
the  sisters  was,  that  while  Jane  was  puzzled,  she 
was  also  attracted,  and  when  she  was  quite  in  the 
dark  for  an  explanation  of  some  quaint  or  unusual 
action  she  was  sympathetic  as  to  its  possible  motive 
and  believed  the  best.  A  greater  change  had  come 
over  Jane  than  over  any  other  person  in  the  brick 
house,  but  it  had  been  wrought  so  secretly,  and  con 
cealed  so  religiously,  that  it  scarcely  appeared  to  the 
ordinary  observer.  Life  had  now  a  motive  utterly 
lacking  before.  Breakfast  was  not  eaten  in  the 
kitchen,  because  it  seemed  worth  while,  now  that 
there  were  three  persons,  to  lay  the  cloth  in  the  din 
ing-room  ;  it  was  also  a  more  bountiful  meal  than  of 
yore,  when  there  was  no  child  to  consider.  The 
morning  was  made  cheerful  by  Rebecca's  start  for 
school,  the  packing  of  the  luncheon  basket,  the  final 
word  about  umbrella,  waterproof,  or  rubbers ;  the 
parting  admonition  and  the  unconscious  waiting  at 


i68  REBECCA 

the  window  for  the  last  ware  of  the  hand.  She  found 
herself  taking  pride  in  Rebecca's  improved  appear 
ance,  her  rounder  throat  and  cheeks,  and  her  better 
color ;  she  was  wont  to  mention  the  length  of  Re 
becca's  hair  and  add  a  word  as  to  its  remarkable 
evenness  and  lustre,  at  times  when  Mrs.  Perkins 
grew  too  diffuse  about  Emma  Jane's  complexion. 
She  threw  herself  wholeheartedly  on  her  niece's  side 
when  it  became  a  question  between  a  crimson  or 
a  brown  linsey-woolsey  dress,  and  went  through  a 
memorable  struggle  with  her  sister  concerning  the 
purchase  of  a  red  bird  for  Rebecca's  black  felt  hat 
No  one  guessed  the  quiet  pleasure  that  lay  hidden  in 
her  heart  when  she  watched  the  girl's  dark  head  bent 
over  her  lessons  at  night,  nor  dreamed  of  her  joy  hi 
certain  quiet  evenings  when  Miranda  went  to  prayer 
meeting ;  evenings  when  Rebecca  would  read  aloud 
Hiawatha  or  Barbara  Frietchie,  The  Bugle  Song, 
or  The  Brook.  Her  narrow,  humdrum  existence 
bloomed  under  the  dews  that  fell  from  this  fresh 
spirit ;  her  dullness  brightened  under  the  kindling 
touch  of  the  younger  mind,  took  fire  from  the  "vital 
spark  of  heavenly  flame  "  that  seemed  always  to 
radiate  from  Rebecca's  presence. 

Rebecca's  idea  of  being  a  painter  like  her  friend 
Miss  Ross  was  gradually  receding,  owing  to  the  ap 
parently  insuperable  difficulties  in  securing  any  in 
struction.  Her  aunt  Miranda  saw  no  wisdom  hi  cul 
tivating  such  a  talent,  and  could  not  conceive  that 


REBECCA  169 

any  money  could  ever  be  earned  by  its  exercise. 
"  Hand  painted  pictures  "  were  held  in  little  esteem 
in  Riverboro,  where  the  cheerful  chromo  or  the 
dignified  steel  engraving  were  respected  and  valued. 
There  was  a  slight,  a  very  slight  hope,  that  Rebecca 
might  be  allowed  a  few  music  'lessons  from  Miss 
Morton,  who  played  the  church  cabinet  organ,  but 
this  depended  entirely  upon  whether  Mrs.  Morton 
would  decide  to  accept  a  hayrack  in  return  for  a 
year's  instruction  from  her  daughter.  She  had  the 
matter  under  advisement,  but  a  doubt  as  to  whether 
or  not  she  would  sell  or  rent  her  hayfields  kept  her 
from  coming  to  a  conclusion.  Music,  in  common 
with  all  other  accomplishments,  was  viewed  by  Miss 
Miranda  as  a  trivial,  useless,  and  foolish  amusement, 
but  she  allowed  Rebecca  an  hour  a  day  for  prac 
tice  on  the  old  piano,  and  a  little  extra  time  for  les 
sons,  if  Jane  could  secure  them  without  payment  of 
actual  cash. 

The  news  from  Sunnybrook  Farm  was  hopeful 
rather  than  otherwise.  Cousin  Ann's  husband  had 
died,  and  John,  Rebecca's  favorite  brother,  had  gone 
to  be  the  man  of  the  house  to  the  widowed  cousin. 
He  was  to  have  good  schooling  in  return  for  his  care 
of  the  horse  and  cow  and  barn,  and  what  was  still 
more  dazzling,  the  use  of  the  old  doctor's  medical 
library  of  two  or  three  dozen  volumes.  John's  whole 
heart  was  set  on  becoming  a  country  doctor,  with 
Rebecca  to  keep  house  for  him,  and  the  vision 


i;o  REBECCA 

seemed  now  so  true,  so  near,  that  he  could  almost 
imagine  his  horse  ploughing  through  snowdrifts  on 
errands  of  mercy,  or,  less  dramatic  but  none  the 
less  attractive,  could  see  a  physician's  neat  turnout 
trundling  along  the  shady  country  roads,  a  medicine 
case  between  his,  Dr.  Randall's,  feet,  and  Miss  Re 
becca  Randall  sitting  in  a  black  silk  dress  by  his 
side. 

Hannah  now  wore  her  hair  in  a  coil  and  her 
dresses  a  trifle  below  her  ankles,  these  concessions 
being  due  to  her  extreme  height.  Mark  had  broken 
his  collar  bone,  but  it  was  healing  well.  Little  Mira 
was  growing  very  pretty.  There  was  even  a  rumor 
that  the  projected  railroad  from  Temperance  to 
Plumville  might  go  near  the  Randall  farm,  in  which 
case  land  would  rise  in  value  from  nothing-at-all  an 
acre  to  something  at  least  resembling  a  price.  Mrs. 
Randall  refused  to  consider  any  improvement  in 
their  financial  condition  as  a  possibility.  Content  to 
work  from  sunrise  to  sunset  to  gain  a  mere  sub 
sistence  for  her  children,  she  lived  in  their  future, 
not  in  her  own  present,  as  a  mother  is  wont  to  do 
when  her  own  lot  seems  hard  and  cheerless. 


XVII 

GRAY   DAYS   AND   GOLD 

WHEN  Rebecca  looked   back  upon  the 
year  or  two  that  followed  the  Simpsons' 
Thanksgiving  party,  she  could  see  only 
certain  milestones  rising  in  the  quiet  pathway  of 
the  months. 

The  first  milestone  was  Christmas  Day.  It  was 
a  fresh,  crystal  morning,  with  icicles  hanging  like 
dazzling  pendants  from  the  trees  and  a  glaze  of 
pale  blue  on  the  surface  of  the  snow.  The  Simp 
sons'  red  barn  stood  out,  a  glowing  mass  of  color  in 
the  white  landscape.  Rebecca  had  been  busy  for 
weeks  before,  trying  to  make  a  present  for  each  of 
the  seven  persons  at  Sunnybrook  Farm,  a  some 
what  difficult  proceeding  on  an  expenditure  of  fifty 
cents,  hoarded  by  incredible  exertion.  Success  had 
been  achieved,  however,  and  the  precious  packet 
had  been  sent  by  post  two  days  previous.  Miss 
Sawyer  had  bought  her  niece  a  nice  gray  squirrel 
muff  and  tippet,  which  was  even  more  unbecoming 
if  possible,  than  Rebecca's  other  articles  of  weaf 
ing  apparel ;  but  aunt  Jane  had  made  her  the  love 
liest  dress  of  green  cashmere,  a  soft,  soft  green  lik^ 
that  of  a  young  leaf.  It  was  very  simply  made,  but 
the  color  delighted  the  eye.  Then  there  was  a 


REBECCA 

beautiful  "  tatting "  collar  from  her  mother,  some 
scarlet  mittens  from  Mrs.  Cobb,  and  a  handker 
chief  from  Emma  Jane. 

Rebecca  herself  had  fashioned  an  elaborate  tea- 
cosy  with  a  letter  "  M  "  in  outline  stitch,  and  a 
pretty  frilled  pincushion  marked  with  a  "  J,"  for  her 
two  aunts,  so  that  taken  all  together  the  day  would 
have  been  an  unequivocal  success  had  nothing  else 
happened  ;  but  something  else  did. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  at  breakfast  time, 
and  Rebecca,  answering  it,  was  asked  by  a  boy  if 
Miss  Rebecca  Randall  lived  there.  On  being  told 
that  she  did,  he  handed  her  a  parcel  bearing  her 
name,  a  parcel  which  she  took  like  one  in  a  dream 
and  bore  into  the  dining-room. 

"It's  a  present ;  it  must  be,"  she  said,  looking 
at  it  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way ;  "  but  I  can't  think 
who  it  could  be  from." 

"  A  good  way  to  find  out  would  be  to  open  it," 
remarked  Miss  Miranda. 

The  parcel  being  untied  proved  to  have  two 
smaller  packages  within,  and  Rebecca  opened  with 
trembling  fingers  the  one  addressed  to  her.  Any 
body's  fingers  would  have  trembled.  There  was  a 
case  which,  when  the  cover  was  lifted,  disclosed  a 
long  chain  of  delicate  pink  coral  beads,  —  a  chain 
ending  in  a  cross  made  of  coral  rosebuds.  A  card 
with  "Merry  Christmas  from  Mr.  Aladdin"  lay 
under  the  cross. 


REBECCA  173 

"  Of  all  things  !  "  exclaimed  the  two  old  ladies, 
rising  in  their  seats.  "Who  sent  it  ?" 

"  Mr.  Ladd,"  said  Rebecca  under  her  breath. 

"  Adam  Ladd  !  Well  I  never  !  Don't  you  remem 
ber  Ellen  Burnham  said  he  was  going  to  send 
Rebecca  a  Christmas  present  ?  But  I  never  sup 
posed  he  'd  think  of  it  again,"  said  Jane.  "  What 's 
the  other  package  ?  " 

It  proved  to  be  a  silver  chain  with  a  blue  enamel 
locket  on  it,  marked  for  Emma  Jane.  That  added 
the  last  touch  —  to  have  him  remember  them  both  ! 
There  was  a  letter  also,  which  ran  :  — 

DEAR  Miss  REBECCA  ROWENA,  —  My  idea  of  a 
Christmas  present  is  something  entirely  unneces 
sary  and  useless.  I  have  always  noticed  when  I 
give  this  sort  of  thing  that  people  love  it,  so  I 
hope  I  have  not  chosen  wrong  for  you  and  your 
friend.  You  must  wear  your  chain  this  afternoon, 
please,  and  let  me  see  it  on  your  neck,  for  I  am 
coming  over  in  my  new  sleigh  to  take  you  both  to 
drive.  My  aunt  is  delighted  with  the  soap. 
Sincerely  your  friend, 

ADAM  LADD. 

"  Well,  well  !  "  cried  Miss  Jane,  "  is  n't  that  kind 
of  him  ?  He  's  very  fond  of  children,  Lyddy  Burn- 
ham  says.  Now  eat  your  breakfast,  Rebecca,  and 
after  we  've  done  the  dishes  you  can  run  over  to 


174  REBECCA 

Emma's  and  give  her  her  chain  —  What 's  the  mat 
ter,  child  ? " 

Rebecca's  emotions  seemed  always  to  be  stored, 
as  it  were,  in  adjoining  compartments,  and  to  be 
continually  getting  mixed.  At  this  moment,  though 
her  joy  was  too  deep  for  words,  her  bread  and  but 
ter  almost  choked  her,  and  at  intervals  a  tear  stole 
furtively  down  her  cheek. 

Mr.  Ladd  called  as  he  promised,  and  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  aunts,  understanding  them  both 
in  five  minutes  as  well  as  if  he  had  known  them 
for  years.  On  a  footstool  near  the  open  fire  sat 
Rebecca,  silent  and  shy,  so  conscious  of  her  fine 
apparel  and  the  presence  of  aunt  Miranda  that  she 
could  not  utter  a  word.  It  was  one  of  her  "  beauty 
days."  Happiness,  excitement,  the  color  of  the 
green  dress,  and  the  touch  of  lovely  pink  in  the 
coral  necklace  had  transformed  the  little  brown 
wren  for  the  time  into  a  bird  of  plumage,  and  Adam 
Ladd  watched  her  with  evident  satisfaction.  Then 
there  was  the  sleigh  ride,  during  which  she  found 
her  tongue  and  chattered  like  any  magpie,  and  so 
ended  that  glorious  Christmas  Day  ;  and  many  and 
many  a  night  thereafter  did  Rebecca  go  to  sleep 
with  the  precious  coral  chain  under  her  pillow,  one 
hand  always  upon  it  to  be  certain  that  it  was  safe. 

Another  milestone  was  the  departure  of  the 
Simpsons  from  Riverboro,  bag  and  baggage,  the 
banquet  lamp  being  their  most  conspicuous  posses- 


REBECCA  175 

sioa  It  was  delightful  to  be  rid  of  Seesaw's  hate 
ful  presence ;  but  otherwise  the  loss  of  several 
playmates  at  one  fell  swoop  made  rather  a  gap 
in  Riverboro's  "younger  set,"  and  Rebecca  was 
obliged  to  make  friends  with  the  Robinson  baby, 
he  being  the  only  long-clothes  child  in  the  village 
that  winter.  The  faithful  Seesaw  had  called  at  the 
side  door  of  the  brick  house  on  the  evening  before 
his  departure,  and  when  Rebecca  answered  his 
knock,  stammered  solemnly,  "  Can  I  k-keep  com- 
p'ny  with  you  when  you  g-g-row  up  ?  "  "  Certainly 
not"  replied  Rebecca,  closing  the  door  somewhat 
too  speedily  upon  her  precocious  swain. 

Mr.  Simpson  had  come  home  in  time  to  move 
his  wife  and  children  back  to  the  town  that  had 
given  them  birth,  a  town  by  no  means  v/aiting  with 
open  arms  to  receive  them.  The  Simpsons'  moving 
was  presided  over  by  the  village  authorities  and 
somewhat  anxiously  watched  by  the  entire  neigh 
borhood,  but  in  spite  of  all  precautions  a  pulpit 
chair,  several  kerosene  lamps,  and  a  small  stove 
disappeared  from  the  church  and  were  success 
fully  swapped  in  the  course  of  Mr.  Simpson's 
driving  tour  from  the  old  home  to  the  new.  It  gave 
Rebecca  and  Emma  Jane  some  hours  of  sorrow  to 
learn  that  a  certain  village  in  the  wake  of  Abner 
Simpson's  line  of  progress  had  acquired,  through 
the  medium  of  an  ambitious  young  minister,  a  mag 
nificent  lamp  for  its  new  church  parlors.  No  money 


REBECCA 

changed  hands  in  the  operation,  for  the  minister 
succeeded  in  getting  the  lamp  in  return  for  an  old 
bicycle.  The  only  pleasant  feature  of  the  whole 
affair  was  that  Mr.  Simpson,  wholly  unable  to  con 
sole  his  offspring  for  the  loss  of  the  beloved  object, 
mounted  the  bicycle  and  rode  away  on  it,  not  to 
be  seen  or  heard  of  again  for  many  a  long  day. 

The  year  was  notable  also  as  being  the  one  in 
which  Rebecca  shot  up  like  a  young  tree.  She  had 
seemingly  never  grown  an  inch  since  she  was  ten 
years  old,  but  once  started  she  attended  to  grow 
ing  precisely  as  she  did  other  things,  — with  such 
energy,  that  Miss  Jane  did  nothing  for  months  but 
lengthen  skirts,  sleeves,  and  waists.  In  spite  of  all 
the  arts  known  to  a  thrifty  New  England  woman, 
the  limit  of  letting  down  and  piecing  down  was 
reached  at  last,  and  the  dresses  were  sent  to  Sunny- 
brook  Farm  to  be  made  over  for  Jenny. 

There  was  another  milestone,  a  sad  one,  mark 
ing  a  little  grave  under  a  willow  tree  at  Sunny- 
brook  Farm.  Mira,  the  baby  of  the  Randall  family, 
died,  and  Rebecca  went  home  for  a  fortnight's 
visit.  The  sight  of  the  small  still  shape  that  had 
been  Mira,  the  baby  who  had  been  her  special 
charge  ever  since  her  birth,  woke  into  being  a  host 
of  new  thoughts  and  wonderments  ;  for  it  is  some 
times  the  mystery  of  death  that  brings  one  to  a 
consciousness  of  the  still  greater  mystery  of  life. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  home-coming  for  Rebecca.  The 


REBECCA  177 


deatk  of  Mira,  the  absence  of  John,  who  had  bi 
her  special  comrade,  the  sadness  of  her  mother,  the 
isolation  of  the  little  house,  and  the  pinching 
economies  that  went  on  within  it,  all  conspired  to 
depress  a  child  who  was  so  sensitive  to  beauty  and 
harmony  as  Rebecca. 

Hannah  seemed  to  have  grown  into  a  woman 
during  Rebecca's  absence.  There  had  always  been 
a  strange  unchildlike  air  about  Hannah,  but  in  cer 
tain  ways  she  now  appeared  older  than  aunt  Jane 
—  soberer,  and  more  settled.  She  was  pretty, 
though  in  a  colorless  fashion  ;  pretty  and  capable. 

Rebecca  walked  through  all  the  old  playgrounds 
and  favorite  haunts  of  her  early  childhood ;  all  her 
familiar,  her  secret  places ;  some  of  them  known  to 
John,  some  to  herself  alone.  There  was  the  spot 
where  the  Indian  pipes  grew  ;  the  particular  bit  of 
marshy  ground  where  the  fringed  gentians  used  to 
be  largest  and  bluest ;  the  rock  maple  where  she 
found  the  oriole's  nest ;  the  hedge  where  the  field 
mice  lived ;  the  moss-covered  stump  where  the 
white  toadstools  were  wont  to  spring  up  as  if  by 
magic  ;  the  hole  at  the  root  of  the  old  pine  where  an 
ancient  and  honorable  toad  made  his  home ;  these 
were  the  landmarks  of  her  childhood,  and  she  looked 
at  them  as  across  an  immeasurable  distance.  The 
dear  little  sunny  brook,  her  chief  companion  after 
John,  was  sorry  company  at  this  season.  There 
was  no  laughing  water  sparkling  in  the  sunshine. 


i/8  REBECCA 

In  summer  the  merry  stream  had  danced  over  white 
pebbles  on  its  way  to  deep  pools  where  it  could  be 
still  and  think.  Now,  like  Mira,  it  was  cold  and 
quiet,  wrapped  in  its  shroud  of  snow ;  but  Rebecca 
knelt  by  the  brink,  and  putting  her  ear  to  the  glaze 
of  ice,  fancied,  where  it  used  to  be  deepest,  she  could 
hear  a  faint,  tinkling  sound.  It  was  all  right  !  Sunny- 
brook  would  sing  again  in  the  spring ;  perhaps  Mira 
too  would  have  her  singing  time  somewhere  —  she 
wondered  where  and  how.  In  the  course  of  these 
lonely  rambles  she  was  ever  thinking,  thinking, 
of  one  subject.  Hannah  had  never  had  a  chance; 
never  been  freed  from  the  daily  care  and  work  of 
the  farm.  She,  Rebecca,  had  enjoyed  all  the  privi 
leges  thus  far.  Life  at  the  brick  house  had  not  been 
by  any  means  a  path  of  roses,  but  there  had  been 
comfort  and  the  companionship  of  other  children,  as 
well  as  chances  for  study  and  reading.  Riverboro 
had  not  been  the  world  itself,  but  it  had  been  a 
glimpse  of  it  through  a  tiny  peephole  that  was  in 
finitely  better  than  nothing.  Rebecca  shed  more 
than  one  quiet  tear  before  she  could  trust  herself  to 
offer  up  as  a  sacrifice  that  which  she  so  much  desired 
for  herself.  Then  one  morning  as  her  visit  neared 
its  end  she  plunged  into  the  subject  boldly  and 
said,  "  Hannah,  after  this  term  I  'm  going  to  stay 
at  home  and  let  you  go  away.  Aunt  Miranda  has 
always  wanted  you,  and  it 's  only  fair  you  should 
have  your  turn." 


REBECCA  179 

Hannah  was  darning  stockings,  and  she  threaded 
her  needle  and  snipped  off  the  yarn  before  she  an 
swered,  "  No,  thank  you,  Becky.  Mother  could  n't 
do  without  me,  and  I  hate  going  to  school.  I  can 
read  and  write  and  cipher  as  well  as  anybody  now, 
ind  that 's  enough  for  me.  I  'd  die  rather  than  teach 
school  for  a  living.  The  winter  '11  go  fast,  for  Will 
Melville  is  going  to  lend  me  his  mother's  sewing 
machine,  and  I  'm  going  to  make  white  petticoats 
out  of  the  piece  of  muslin  aunt  Jane  sent,  and  have 
'em  just  solid  with  tucks.  Then  there  's  going  to 
be  a  singing-school  and  a  social  circle  in  Temper 
ance  after  New  Year's,  and  I  shall  have  a  real  good 
time  now  I  'm  grown  up.  I  'm  not  one  to  be  lone 
some,  Becky,"  Hannah  ended  with  a  blush  ;  "  I  love 
this  place." 

Rebecca  saw  that  she  was  speaking  the  truth,  but 
she  did  not  understand  the  blush  till  a  year  or  two 
later. 


XVIII 

REBECCA  REPRESENTS  THE  FAMILY 

THERE  was  another  milestone ;  it  was  more 
than  that,  it  was  an  "event;"  an  event 
that  made  a  deep  impression  in  several 
quarters  and  left  a  wake  of  smaller  events  in  its 
train.    This  was  the  coming  to  Riverboro  of  the 
Reverend  Amos  Burch  and  wife,  returned  mission 
aries  from  Syria. 

The  Aid  Society  had  called  its  meeting  for  a 
certain  Wednesday  in  March  of  the  year  in  which 
Rebecca  ended  her  Riverboro  school  days  and 
began  her  studies  at  Wareham.  It  was  a  raw, 
blustering  day,  snow  on  the  ground  and  a  look  in 
the  sky  of  more  to  follow.  Both  Miranda  and  Jane 
had  taken  cold  and  decided  that  they  could  not 
leave  the  house  in  such  weather,  and  this  deflection 
from  the  path  of  duty  worried  Miranda,  since  she 
was  an  officer  of  the  society.  After  making  the 
breakfast  table  sufficiently  uncomfortable  and  wish 
ing  plaintively  that  Jane  would  n't  always  insist  on 
being  sick  at  the  same  time  she  was,  she  decided 
that  Rebecca  must  go  to  the  meeting  in  their 
stead.  "  You  '11  be  better  than  nobody,  Rebecca," 
she  said  flatteringly ;  "  your  aunt  Jane  shall  write 
an  excuse  from  afternoon  school  for  you  ;  you  can 


REBECCA  181 

wear  your  rubber  boots  and  come  home  by  the 
way  of  the  meetin'  house.  This  Mr.  Burch,  if  I 
remember  right,  used  to  know  your  grandfather 
Sawyer,  and  stayed  here  once  when  he  was  candi- 
datin'.  He  '11  mebbe  look  for  us  there,  and  you 
must  just  go  and  represent  the  family,  an'  give  him 
our  respects.  Be  careful  how  you  behave.  Bow 
your  head  in  prayer ;  sing  all  the  hymns,  but  not 
too  loud  and  bold;  ask  after  Mis'  Strout's  boy; 
tell  everybody  what  awful  colds  we  've  got ;  if  you 
see  a  good  chance,  take  your  pocket  handkerchief 
and  wipe  the  dust  off  the  melodeon  before  the 
meetin'  begins,  and  get  twenty-five  cents  out  of  the 
sittin'  room  match-box  in  case  there  should  be  a 
collection." 

Rebecca  willingly  assented.  Anything  interested 
her,  even  a  village  missionary  meeting,  and  the  idea 
of  representing  the  family  was  rather  intoxicating. 

The  service  was  held  in  the  Sunday-school  room, 
and  although  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burch  was  on  the  plat 
form  when  Rebecca  entered,  there  were  only  a 
dozen  persons  present.  Feeling  a  little  shy  and  con 
siderably  too  young  for  this  assemblage,  Rebecca 
sought  the  shelter  of  a  friendly  face,  and  seeing 
Mrs.  Robinson  in  one  of  the  side  seats  near  the 
front,  she  walked  up  the  aisle  and  sat  beside  her. 

"  Both  my  aunts  had  bad  colds,"  she  said  softly, 
"and  sent  me  to  represent  the  family." 

"  That 's  Mrs.  Burch  on  the  platform  with  her 


iS2  REBECCA 

husband,"  whispered  Mrs.  Robinson.  "  She 's  awful 
tanned  up,  ain't  she  ?  If  you  're  goin'  to  save  souls 
seems  like  you  hev'  to  part  with  your  complexion. 
Eudoxy  Morton  ain't  come  yet ;  I  hope  to  the  land 
she  will,  or  Mis'  Deacon  Milliken  '11  pitch  the  tunes 
where  we  can't  reach  'em  with  a  ladder;  can't 
you  pitch,  afore  she  gits  her  breath  and  clears  her 
throat?" 

Mrs.  Burch  was  a  slim,  frail  little  woman  with 
dark  hair,  a  broad  low  forehead,  and  patient  mouth. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  well-worn  black  silk,  and 
looked  so  tired  that  Rebecca's  heart  went  out  to 
her. 

"  They  're  poor  as  Job's  turkey,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Robinson ;  "  but  if  you  give  'em  anything  they  'd 
turn  right  round  and  give  it  to  the  heathen.  His 
congregation  up  to  Parsonsfield  clubbed  together 
and  give  him  that  gold  watch  he  carries ;  I  s'pose 
he  'd  'a'  handed  that  over  too,  only  heathens  always 
tell  time  by  the  sun  'n'  don't  need  watches.  Eudoxy 
ain't  comin' ;  now  for  massy's  sake,  Rebecca,  do 
git  ahead  of  Mis'  Deacon  Milliken  and  pitch  real 
low." 

The  meeting  began  with  prayer  and  then  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Burch  announced,  to  the  tune  of  Men- 
don:  — 

"  Church  of  our  God  !  arise  and  shine, 
Bright  with  the  beams  of  truth  divine : 
Then  shall  thy  radiance  stream  afar, 
Wide  as  the  heathen  nations  are. 


REBECCA  183 

"Gentiles  and  kings  thy  light  shall  view, 
And  shall  admire  and  love  thee  too; 
They  come,  like  clouds  across  the  sky, 
As  doves  that  to  their  windows  fly." 

"  Is  there  any  one  present  who  will  assist  us  at 
the  instrument  ?  "  he  asked  unexpectedly. 

Everybody  looked  at  everybody  else,  and  nobody 
moved  ;  then  there  came  a  voice  out  of  a  far  corner 
saying  informally,  "  Rebecca,  why  don't  you  ?  "  It 
was  Mrs.  Cobb.  Rebecca  could  have  played  Men- 
don  in  the  dark,  so  she  went  to  the  melodeon  and 
did  so  without  any  ado,  no  member  of  her  family 
being  present  to  give  her  self -consciousness. 

The  talk  that  ensued  was  much  the  usual  sort  of 
thing.  Mr.  Burch  made  impassioned  appeals  for  the 
spreading  of  the  gospel,  and  added  his  entreaties 
that  all  who  were  prevented  from  visiting  in  per 
son  the  peoples  who  sat  in  darkness  should  con 
tribute  liberally  to  the  support  of  others  who  could. 
But  he  did  more  than  this.  He  was  a  pleasant,  ear 
nest  speaker,  and  he  interwove  his  discourse  with 
stories  of  life  in  a  foreign  land,  —  of  the  manners, 
the  customs,  the  speech,  the  point  of  view ;  even 
giving  glimpses  of  the  daily  round,  the  common 
task,  of  his  own  household,  the  work  of  his  de 
voted  helpmate  and  their  little  group  of  children, 
all  born  under  Syrian  skies. 

Rebecca  sat  entranced,  having  been  given  the 
key  of  another  world.  Riverboro  had  faded;  the 


REBECCA 

Sunday-school  room,  with  Mrs.  Robinson's  red  plaid 
shawl,  and  Deacon  Milliken's  wig,  on  crooked,  the 
bare  benches  and  torn  hymn-books,  the  hanging 
texts  and  maps,  were  no  longer  visible,  and  she 
saw  blue  skies  and  burning  stars,  white  turbans 
and  gay  colors  ;  Mr.  Burch  had  not  said  so,  but  per 
haps  there  were  mosques  and  temples  and  mina 
rets  and  date-palms.  What  stories  they  must  know, 
those  children  born  under  Syrian  skies !  Then 
she  was  called  upon  to  play  "  Jesus  shall  reign 
where'er  the  sun." 

The  contribution  box  was  passed  and  Mr.  Burch 
prayed.  As  he  opened  his  eyes  and  gave  out  the 
last  hymn  he  looked  at  the  handful  of  people,  at  the 
scattered  pennies  and  dimes  in  the  contribution  box, 
and  reflected  that  his  mission  was  not  only  to  gather 
funds  for  the  building  of  his  church,  but  to  keep 
alive,  in  all  these  remote  and  lonely  neighborhoods, 
that  love  for  the  cause  which  was  its  only  hope  in 
the  years  to  come. 

"  If  any  of  the  sisters  will  provide  entertainment," 
he  said,  "  Mrs.  Burch  and  I  will  remain  among  you 
to-night  and  to-morrow.  In  that  event  we  could 
hold  a  parlor  meeting.  My  wife  and  one  of  my 
children  would  wear  the  native  costume,  we  would 
display  some  specimens  of  Syrian  handiwork,  and 
give  an  account  of  our  educational  methods  with  the 
children.  These  informal  parlor  meetings,  admitting 
of  questions  or  conversation,  are  often  the  means 


REBECCA  185 

of  interesting  those  not  commonly  found  at  church 
services  so  I  repeat,  if  any  member  of  the  congre 
gation  desires  it  and  offers  her  hospitality,  we  will 
gladly  stay  and  tell  you  more  of  the  Lord's  work." 
A  pall  of  silence  settled  over  the  little  assembly. 
There  was  some  cogent  reason  why  every  "  sister  " 
there  was  disinclined  for  company.  Some  had  no 
spare  room,  some  had  a  larder  less  well  stocked  than 
usual,  some  had  sickness  in  the  family,  some  were 
"  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbelievers  "  who 
disliked  strange  ministers.  Mrs.  Burch's  thin  hands 
fingered  her  black  silk  nervously.  "  Would  no  one 
speak  !  "  thought  Rebecca,  her  heart  fluttering  with 
sympathy.  Mrs.  Robinson  leaned  over  and  whis 
pered  significantly,  "The  missionaries  always  used 
to  be  entertained  at  the  brick  house  ;  your  grand 
father  never  would  let  'em  sleep  anywheres  else 
when  he  was  alive."  She  meant  this  for  a  stab  at 
Miss  Miranda's  prrsimony,  remembering  the  four 
spare  chambers,  closed  from  January  to  December  ; 
but  Rebecca  thought  it  was  intended  as  a  sugges 
tion.  If  it  had  been  a  former  custom,  perhaps  her 
aunts  would  want  her  to  do  the  right  thing ;  for 
what  else  was  she  representing  the  family  ?  So, 
delighted  that  duty  lay  in  so  pleasant  a  direction, 
she  rose  from  her  seat  and  said  in  the  pretty  voice 
and  with  the  quaint  mrjiner  that  so  separated  her 
from  all  the  other  young  people  in  the  village,  "  My 
aunts,  Miss  Miranda  and  Miss  Jane  Sawyer,  would 


186  REBECCA 

be  very  happy  to  have  you  visit  them  at  the  brick 
house,  as  the  ministers  always  used  to  do  when  their 
father  was  alive.  They  sent  their  respects  by  me." 
The  "respects"  might  have  been  the  freedom  of 
the  city,  or  an  equestrian  statue,  when  presented  in 
this  way,  and  the  aunts  would  have  shuddered  could 
they  have  foreseen  the  manner  of  delivery ;  but  it 
was  vastly  impressive  to  the  audience,  who  con 
cluded  that  Mirandy  Sawyer  must  be  making  her 
way  uncommonly  fast  to  mansions  in  the  skies,  else 
what  meant  this  abrupt  change  of  heart  ? 

Mr.  Burch  bowed  courteously,  accepted  the  invi 
tation  "  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  was  offered," 
and  asked  Brother  Milliken  to  lead  in  prayer. 

If  the  Eternal  Ear  could  ever  tire  it  would  have 
ceased  long  ere  this  to  listen  to  Deacon  Milliken, 
who  had  wafted  to  the  throne  of  grace  the  same 
prayer,  with  very  slight  variations,  for  forty  years. 
Mrs.  Perkins  followed  ;  she  had  several  petitions 
at  her  command,  good  sincere  ones  too,  but  a  little 
cut  and  dried,  macl^  of  scripture  texts  laboriously 
woven  together.  Rebecca  wondered  why  she  always 
ended,  at  the  most  peaceful  seasons,  with  the  form, 
"Do  Thou  be  with  us,  God  of  Battles,  while  we 
strive  onward  like  Christian  soldiers  marching  as 
to  war ; "  but  everything  sounded  real  to  her  to-day ; 
she  was  in  a  devout  mood,  and  many  things  Mr. 
Burch  had  said  had  moved  her  strangely.  As  she 
lifted  her  head  the  minister  looked  directly  at  her 


REBECCA  187 

and  said,  "  Will  our  young  sister  close  the  s^rrice 
by  leading  us  in  prayer  ?  " 

Every  drop  of  blood  in  Rebecca's  body  seemed  to 
stand  still,  and  her  heart  almost  stopped  beating. 
Mrs.  Cobb's  excited  breathing  could  be  heard  dis 
tinctly  in  the  silence.  There  was  nothing  extra 
ordinary  in  Mr.  Burch's  request.  In  his  journey- 
ings  among  country  congregations  he  was  constantly 
in  the  habit  of  meeting  young  members  who  had 
"  experienced  religion  "  and  joined  the  church  when 
nine  or  ten  years  old.  Rebecca  was  now  thirteen  ; 
she  had  played  the  melodeon,  led  the  singing,  de 
livered  her  aunts'  invitation  with  an  air  of  great 
worldly  wisdom,  and  he,  concluding  that  she  must 
be  a  youthful  pillar  of  the  church,  called  upon  her 
with  the  utmost  simplicity. 

Rebecca's  plight  was  pathetic.  How  could  she 
refuse  ;  how  could  she  explain  she  was  not  a  "  mem 
ber  ; "  how  could  she  pray  before  all  those  elderly 
women  !  John  Rogers  at  the  stake  hardly  suffered 
more  than  this  poor  child  for  the  moment  as  she 
rose  to  her  feet,  forgetting  that  ladies  prayed  sit 
ting,  while  deacons  stood  in  prayer.  Her  mind  was 
a  maze  of  pictures  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burch  had 
flung  on  the  screen.  She  knew  the  conventional 
phraseology,  of  course ;  what  New  England  child, 
accustomed  to  Wednesday  evening  meetings,  does 
not?  But  her  own  secret  prayers  were  different. 
However,  she  began  slowly  and  tremulously  :  — 


188  REBECCA 

"Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven,  .  .  .  Thou  art 
God  in  Syria  just  the  same  as  in  Maine  ;  .  .  .  over 
there  to-day  are  blue  skies  and  yellow  stars  and 
burning  suns  .  .  .  the  great  trees  are  waving  in  the 
warm  air,  while  here  the  snow  lies  thick  under  our 
feet,  .  .  .  but  no  distance  is  too  far  for  God  to  travel 
and  so  He  is  with  us  here  as  He  is  with  them 
there,  .  .  .  and  our  thoughts  rise  to  Him  *  as  doves 
that  to  their  windows  fly.'.  .  . 

"  We  cannot  all  be  missionaries,  teaching  people 
to  be  good,  .  .  .  some  of  us  have  not  learned  yet 
how  to  be  good  ourselves,  but  if  thy  kingdom  is 
to  come  and  thy  will  is  to  be  done  on  earth  as  it 
is  in  heaven,  everybody  must  try  and  everybody 
must  help,  .  .  .  those  who  are  old  and  tired  and 
those  who  are  young  and  strong.  .  .  .  The  little 
children  of  whom  we  have  heard,  those  born  under 
Syrian  skies,  have  strange  and  interesting  work  to 
do  for  Thee,  and  some  of  us  would  like  to  travel 
in  far  lands  and  do  wonderful  brave  things  for  the 
heathen  and  gently  take  away  their  idols  of  wood 
and  stone.  But  perhaps  we  have  to  stay  at  home 
and  do  what  is  given  us  to  do  ...  sometimes  even 
things  we  dislike,  .  .  .  but  that  must  be  what  it 
means  in  the  hymn  we  sang,  when  it  talked  about 
the  sweet  perfume  that  rises  with  every  morning 
sacrifice.  .  .  .  This  is  the  way  that  God  teaches  us 
to  be  meek  and  patient,  and  the  thought  that  He 
has  willed  it  so  should  rob  us  of  our  fears  and  help 
us  bear  the  years.  Amen." 


REBECCA  189 

Poor  little  ignorant,  fantastic  child  !  Her  petition 
was  simply  a  succession  of  lines  from  the  various 
hymns,  and  images  the  minister  had  used  in  his 
sermon,  but  she  had  her  own  way  of  recombining 
and  applying  these  things,  even  of  using  them  in  a 
new  connection,  so  that  they  had  a  curious  effect 
of  belonging  to  her.  The  words  of  some  people 
might  generally  be  written  with  a  minus  sign  after 
them,  the  minus  meaning  that  the  personality  of 
the  speaker  subtracted  from,  rather  than  added  to, 
their  weight ;  but  Rebecca's  words  might  always 
have  borne  the  plus  sign. 

The  "Amen"  said,  she  sat  down,  or  presumed 
she  sat  down,  on  what  she  believed  to  be  a  bench, 
and  there  was  a  benediction.  In  a  moment  or  two, 
when  the  room  ceased  spinning,  she  went  up  to 
Mrs.  Burch,  who  kissed  her  affectionately  and  said, 
"  My  dear,  how  glad  I  am  that  we  are  going  to  stay 
with  you.  Will  half  past  five  be  too  late  for  us  to 
come  ?  It  is  three  now,  and  we  have  to  go  to  the 
station  for  our  valise  and  for  our  children.  We  left 
them  there,  being  uncertain  whether  we  should  go 
back  or  stop  here." 

Rebecca  said  that  half  past  *ive  was  their  supper 
hour,  and  then  accepted  an  invitation  to  drive  home 
with  Mrs.  Cobb.  Her  face  was  flushed  and  her  lip 
quivered  in  a  way  that  aunt  Sarah  had  learned  to 
know,  so  the  homeward  drive  was  taken  almost  in 
silence.  The  bleak  wind  and  aunt  Sarah's  quieting 


190  REBECCA 

presence  brought  her  back  to  herself,  however,  and 
she  entered  the  brick  house  cheerily.  Being  too 
full  of  news  to  wait  in  the  side  entry  to  take  off  her 
rubber  boots,  she  carefully  lifted  a  braided  rug  into 
the  sitting-room  and  stood  on  that  while  she  opened 
her  budget. 

"There  are  your  shoes  warming  by  the  fire," 
said  aunt  Jane.    "  Slip  them  right  on  while  you  talk." 


XIX 

DEACON   ISRAEL'S    SUCCESSOR 

IT  was  a  very  small  meeting,  aunt  Miranda," 
began  Rebecca,  "  and  the  missionary  and  his 
wife  are  lovely  people,  and  they  are  coming 
here  to  stay  all  night  and  to-morrow  with  you.  I 
hope  you  won't  mind." 

"  Coming  here  !  "  exclaimed  Miranda,  letting  her 
knitting  fall  in  her  lap,  and  taking  her  spectacles 
off,  as  she  always  did  in  moments  of  extreme  ex 
citement.  "  Did  they  invite  themselves  ?  " 

"  No,"  Rebecca  answered.  "  I  had  to  invite  them 
for  you ;  but  I  thought  you  'd  like  to  have  such  in 
teresting  company.  It  was  this  way  "  — 

"  Stop  your  explaining  and  tell  me  first  when 
they  '11  be  here.  Right  away  ?  " 

"  No,  not  for  two  hours  —  about  half  past  five." 

"  Then  you  can  explain,  if  you  can,  who  gave  you 
any  authority  to  invite  a  passcl  of  strangers  to  stop 
here  over  night,  when  you  know  we  ain't  had  any 
company  for  twenty  years,  and  don't  intend  to  have 
any  for  another  twenty,  —  or  at  any  rate  while  I  'm 
the  head  of  the  house." 

"  Don't  blame  her,  Miranda,  till  you  've  heard 
her  story,"  said  Jane.  "  It  was  in  my  mind  right 
along,  if  we  went  to  the  meeting,  some  such  thing 


192  REBECCA 

might  happen,  on  account  of  Mr.  Burch  knowing 
father." 

"  The  meeting  was  a  small  one,"  began  Rebecca. 
"I  gave  all  your  messages,  and  everybody  was 
disappointed  you  could  n't  come,  for  the  president 
was  n't  there,  and  Mrs.  Matthews  took  the  chair,  which 
was  a  pity,  for  the  seat  was  n't  nearly  big  enough  for 
her,  and  she  reminded  me  of  a  line  in  a  hymn  we 
sang,  '  Wide  as  the  heathen  nations  are/  and  she 
wore  that  kind  of  a  beaver  garden -hat  that  always 
gets  on  one  side.  And  Mr.  Burch  talked  beautifully 
about  the  Syrian  heathen,  and  the  singing  went 
real  well,  and  there  looked  to  be  about  forty  cents 
in  the  basket  that  was  passed  on  our  side.  And 
that  would  n't  save  even  a  heathen  baby,  would  it  ? 
Then  Mr.  Burch  said,  if  any  sister  would  offer 
entertainment,  they  would  pass  the  night,  and  have 
a  parlor  meeting  in  Riverboro  to-morrow,  with  Mrs. 
Burch  in  Syrian  costume,  and  lovely  foreign  things 
to  show.  Then  he  waited  and  waited,  and  nobody 
said  a  word.  I  was  so  mortified  I  did  n't  know  what 
to  do.  And  then  he  repeated  what  he  said,  and  ex 
plained  why  he  wanted  to  stay,  and  you  could  see 
he  thought  it  was  his  duty.  Just  then  Mrs.  Rob 
inson  whispered  to  me  and  said  the  missionaries 
always  used  to  go  to  the  brick  house  when  grand 
father  was  alive,  and  that  he  never  would  let  them 
sleep  anywhere  else.  I  did  n't  know  you  had  stopped 
having  them,  because  no  traveling  ministers  have 


REBECCA  193 

been  here,  except  just  for  a  Sunday  morning,  since 
I  came  to  Riverboro.  So  I  thought  I  ought  to  in 
vite  them,  as  you  were  n't  there  to  do  it  for  yourself, 
and  you  told  me  to  represent  the  family." 

"  What  did  you  do  —  go  up  and  introduce  your 
self  as  folks  was  goin'  out  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  stood  right  up  in  meeting.  I  had  to,  for 
Mr.  Burch's  feelings  were  getting  hurt  at  nobody's 
speaking.  So  I  said,  '  My  aunts,  Miss  Miranda  and 
Miss  Jane  Sawyer,  would  be  happy  to  have  you 
visit  at  the  brick  house,  just  as  the  missionaries 
always  did  when  their  father  was  alive,  and  they 
sent  their  respects  by  me.'  Then  I  sat  down  ;  and 
Mr.  Burch  prayed  for  grandfather,  and  called  him  a 
man  of  God,  and  thanked  our  Heavenly  Father  that 
his  spirit  was  still  alive  in  his  descendants  (that  was 
you),  and  that  the  good  old  house  where  so  many 
of  the  brethren  had  been  cheered  and  helped,  and 
from  which  so  many  had  gone  out  strengthened  for 
the  fight,  was  still  hospitably  open  for  the  stranger 
and  wayfarer." 

Sometimes,  when  the  heavenly  bodies  are  in 
just  the  right  conjunction,  nature  seems  to  be  the 
most  perfect  art.  The  word  or  the  deed  coming 
straight  from  the  heart,  without  any  thought  of 
effect,  seems  inspired. 

A  certain  gateway  in  Miranda  Sawyer's  soul  had 
been  closed  for  years  ;  not  all  at  once  had  it  been 
done,  but  gradually,  and  without  her  full  knowledge 


194  REBECCA 

If  Rebecca  had  plotted  for  days,  and  with  the  utmost 
cunning,  she  could  not  have  effected  an  entrance 
into  that  forbidden  country,  and  now,  unknown  to 
both  of  them,  the  gate  swung  on  its  stiff  and  rusty 
hinges,  and  the  favoring  wind  of  opportunity  opened 
it  wider  and  wider  as  time  went  on.  All  things  had 
worked  together  amazingly  for  good.  The  mem 
ory  of  old  days  had  been  evoked,  and  the  daily  life 
of  a  pious  and  venerated  father  called  to  mind ; 
the  Sawyer  name  had  been  publicly  dignified  and 
praised ;  Rebecca  had  comported  herself  as  the 
granddaughter  of  Deacon  Israel  Sawyer  should,  and 
showed  conclusively  that  she  was  not  "all  Ran 
dall,"  as  had  been  supposed.  Miranda  was  rather 
mollified  by  and  pleased  with  the  turn  of  events, 
although  she  did  not  intend  to  show  it,  or  give  any 
body  any  reason  to  expect  that  this  expression  of 
hospitality  was  to  serve  for  a  precedent  on  any  sub 
sequent  occasion. 

"  Well,  I  see  you  did  only  what  you  was  obliged 
to  do,  Rebecca,"  she  said,  "  and  you  worded  your 
invitation  as  nice  as  anybody  could  have  done.  I 
wish  your  aunt  Jane  and  me  was  n't  both  so  worth 
less  with  these  colds ;  but  it  only  shows  the  good 
of  havin*  a  clean  house,  with  every  room  in  order, 
whether  open  or  shut,  and  enough  victuals  cooked 
so  't  you  can't  be  surprised  and  belittled  by  any 
body,  whatever  happens.  There  was  half  a  dozen 
there  that  might  have  entertained  the  Burches  as 


REBECCA  195 

easy  as  not,  if  they  had  n't  'a'  been  too  mean 
or  lazy.  Why  did  n't  your  missionaries  come  right 
along  with  you  ?" 

"  They  had  to  go  to  the  station  for  their  valise 
and  their  children." 

"  Are  there  children  ?  "  groaned  Miranda. 

"Yes,  aunt  Miranda,  all  born  under  Syrian 
skies." 

"  Syrian  grandmother  !  "  ejaculated  Miranda  (and 
it  was  not  a  fact).  "  How  many  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  think  to  ask ;  but  I  will  get  two  rooms 
ready,  and  if  there  are  any  over  I  '11  take  'em  into 
my  bed,"  said  Rebecca,  secretly  hoping  that  this 
would  be  the  case.  "  Now,  as  you  're  both  half  sick, 
could  n't  you  trust  me  just  once  to  get  ready  for  the 
company  ?  You  can  come  up  when  I  call.  Will 
you  ? " 

"I  believe  I  will,"  sighed  Miranda  reluctantly. 
"  I  '11  lay  down  side  o'  Jane  in  our  bedroom  and  see 
if  I  can  get  strength  to  cook  supper.  It 's  half  past 
three  —  don't  you  let  me  lay  a  minute  past  five.  I 
kep'  a  good  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove.  I  don't  know, 
I  'm  sure,  why  I  should  have  baked  a  pot  o'  beans 
in  the  middle  of  the  week,  but  they'll  come  in 
handy.  Father  used  to  say  there  was  nothing  that 
went  right  to  the  spot  with  returned  missionaries 
like  pork  'n'  beans  'n'  brown  bread.  Fix  up  the  two 
south  chambers,  Rebecca." 

Rebecca,  given  a  free  hand  for  the  only  time  in  her 


196  REBECCA 

life,  dashed  upstairs  like  a  whirlwind.  Every  room 
in  the  brick  house  was  as  neat  as  wax,  and  she  had 
only  to  pull  up  the  shades,  go  over  the  floors  with 
a  whisk  broom,  and  dust  the  furniture.  The  aunts 
could  hear  her  scurrying  to  and  fro,  beating  up 
pillows  and  feather  beds,  flapping  towels,  jingling 
crockery,  singing  meanwhile  in  her  clear  voice :  — 

"  In  vain  with  lavish  kindness 

The  gifts  of  God  are  strown  ; 
The  heathen  in  his  blindness 
Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone." 

She  had  grown  to  be  a  handy  little  creature,  and 
tasks  she  was  capable  of  doing  at  all  she  did  like 
a  flash,  so  that  when  she  called  her  aunts  at  five 
o'clock  to  pass  judgment,  she  had  accomplished 
wonders.  There  were  fresh  towels  on  bureaus  and 
washstands,  the  beds  were  fair  and  smooth,  the 
pitchers  were  filled,  and  soap  and  matches  were 
laid  out ;  newspaper,  kindling,  and  wood  were  in  the 
boxes,  and  a  large  stick  burned  slowly  in  each  air 
tight  stova  "  I  thought  I  'd  better  just  take  the 
chill  off,"  she  explained,  "as  they're  right  from 
Syria ;  and  that  reminds  me,  I  must  "look  it  up  in 
the  geography  before  they  get  here." 

There  was  nothing  to  disapprove,  so  the  two  sis 
ters  went  downstairs  to  make  some  slight  changes 
in  their  dress.  As  they  passed  the  parlor  door  Mi 
randa  thought  she  heard  a  crackle  and  looked  in. 
The  shades  were  up,  there  was  a  cheerful  blaze  in 


REBECCA  197 

the  open  stove  in  the  front  parlor,  and  a  fire  laid 
on  the  hearth  in  the  back  room.  Rebecca's  own 
lamp,  her  second  Christmas  present  from  Mr.  Alad 
din,  stood  on  a  marble-topped  table  in  the  corner, 
the  light  that  came  softly  through  its  rose-colored 
shade  transforming  the  stiff  and  gloomy  ugliness  of 
the  room  into  a  place  where  one  could  sit  and  love 
one's  neighbor. 

"  For  massy's  sake,  Rebecca,"  called  Miss  Mi 
randa  up  the  stairs,  "  did  you  think  we  'd  better 
open  the  parlor  ?  " 

Rebecca  came  out  on  the  landing  braiding  her 
hair. 

"  We  did  on  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas,  and  I 
thought  this  was  about  as  great  an  occasion,"  she 
said.  "  I  moved  the  wax  flowers  off  the  mantelpiece 
so  they  would  n't  melt,  and  put  the  shells,  the  coral, 
and  the  green  stuffed  bird  on  top  of  the  what-not, 
so  the  children  would  n't  ask  to  play  with  them. 
Brother  Milliken  's  coming  over  to  see  Mr.  Burch 
about  business,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if  Brother 
and  Sister  Cobb  happened  in.  Don't  go  down  cel 
lar,  I  '11  be  there  in  a  minute  to  do  the  running." 

Miranda  and  Jane  exchanged  glances. 

"  Ain't  she  the  beatin'est  creetur  that  ever  was 
born  hit1  the  world ! "  exclaimed  Miranda;  "but  she 
can  turn  off  work  when  she  's  got  a  mind  to  !  " 

At  quarter  past  five  everything  was  ready,  and 
the  neighbors,  those  at  least  who  were  within  sight 


198  REBECCA 

of  the  brick  house  (a  prominent  object  in  the  land 
scape  when  there  were  no  leaves  on  the  trees), 
were  curious  almost  to  desperation.  Shades  up  in 
both  parlors !  Shades  up  in  the  two  south  bed 
rooms  !  And  fires  —  if  human  vision  was  to  be  re 
lied  on  —  fires  in  about  every  room.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  the  kind  offices  of  a  lady  who  had  been  at 
the  meeting,  and  who  charitably  called  in  at  one  or 
two  houses  and  explained  the  reason  of  all  this  pre 
paration,  there  would  have  been  no  sleep  in  many 
families. 

The  missionary'  party  arrived  promptly,  and  there 
were  but  two  children,  seven  or  eight  having  been 
left  with  the  brethren  in  Portland,  to  diminish  trav 
eling  expenses.  Jane  escorted  them  all  upstairs, 
while  Miranda  watched  the  cooking  of  the  supper ; 
but  Rebecca  promptly  took  the  two  little  girls  away 
from  their  mother,  divested  them  of  their  wraps, 
smoothed  their  hair,  and  brought  them  down  to  the 
kitchen  to  smell  the  beans. 

There  was  a  bountiful  supper,  and  the  presence 
of  the  young  people  robbed  it  of  all  possible  stiff 
ness.  Aunt  Jane  helped  clear  the  table  and  put 
away  the  food,  while  Miranda  entertained  in  the  par 
lor;  but  Rebecca  and  the  infant  Burches  washed 
the  dishes  and  held  high  carnival  in  the  kitchen, 
doing  only  trifling  damage  —  breaking  a  cup  and 
plate  that  had  been  cracked  before,  emptying  a  sil 
ver  spoon  with  some  dishwater  out  of  the  back  door 


REBECCA  199 

(an  act  never  permitted  at  the  brick  house),  and 
putting  coffee  grounds  in  the  sink  All  evidences 
of  crime  having  been  removed  by  Rebecca,  and  dam 
ages  repaired  in  all  possible  cases,  the  three  entered 
the  parlor,  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cobb  and  Deacon 
and  Mrs.  Milliken  had  already  appeared. 

It  was  such  a  pleasant  evening !  Occasionally 
they  left  the  heathen  in  his  blindness  bowing  down 
to  wood  and  stone,  not  for  long,  but  just  to  give 
themselves  (and  him)  time  enough  to  breathe,  and 
then  the  Burches  told  strange,  beautiful,  marvelous 
tuings.  The  two  smaller  children  sang  together, 
and  Rebecca,  at  the  urgent  request  of  Mrs.  Burch, 
seated  herself  at  the  tinkling  old  piano  and  gave 
"  Wild  roved  an  Indian  girl,  bright  Alfarata  "  with 
considerable  spirit  and  style. 

At  eight  o'clock  she  crossed  the  room,  handed  a 
palm-leaf  fan  to  her  aunt  Miranda,  ostensibly  that 
she  might  shade  her  eyes  from  the  lamplight ;  but 
it  was  a  piece  of  strategy  that  gave  her  an  oppor 
tunity  to  whisper,  "  How  about  cookies  ? " 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  worth  while  ? "  sibilated  Miss 
Miranda  in  answer. 

"The  Perkinses  always  do." 
"All  right.    You  know  where  they  be," 
Rebecca  moved  quietly  towards  the  door,  and  the 
young  Burches  cataracted  after  her  as  if  they  could 
not   bear  a  second's   separation.    In  five   minutes 
they  returned,  the  little  ones  bearing  plates  of  thin 


200  REBECCA 

caraway  wafers,  — hearts,  diamonds,  and  circles 
daintily  sugared,  and  flecked  with  caraway  seed 
raised  in  the  garden  behind  the  house.  These  were 
a  specialty  of  Miss  Jane's,  and  Rebecca  carried  a 
tray  with  six  tiny  crystal  glasses  filled  with  dandelion 
wine,  for  which  Miss  Miranda  had  been  famous  in 
years  gone  by.  Old  Deacon  Israel  had  always  had 
it  passed,  and  he  had  bought  the  glasses  himself 
in  Boston.  Miranda  admired  them  greatly,  not  only 
for  their  beauty  but  because  they  held  so  little.  Be 
fore  their  advent  the  dandelion  wine  had  been  served 
in  sherry  glasses. 

As  soon  as  these  refreshments  —  commonly 
called  a  "elation"  in  Riverboro  —  had  been  gen 
teelly  partaken  of,  Rebecca  looked  at  the  clock,  rose 
from  her  chair  in  the  children's  corner,  and  said 
cheerfully,  "  Come !  time  for  little  missionaries  to 
be  in  bed ! " 

Everybody  laughed  at  this,  the  big  missionaries 
most  of  all,  as  the  young  people  shook  hands  and 
disappeared  with  Rebecca. 


XX 

A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

THAT  niece  of  yours  is  the  most  remark 
able  girl  I  have  seen  in  years,"  said  Mr. 
Burch  when  the  door  closed. 

"  She  seems  to  be  turnin'  out  smart  enough  lately, 
but  she's  consid'able  heedless,"  answered  Miranda, 
"an'  most  too  lively." 

"We  must  remember  that  it  is  deficient,  not  ex 
cessive  vitality,  that  makes  the  greatest  trouble  in 
this  world,"  returned  Mr.  Burch. 

"  She  'd  make  a  wonderful  missionary,"  said  Mrs. 
Burch  ;  "  with  her  voice,  and  her  magnetism,  and  her 
gift  of  language." 

"  If  I  was  to  say  which  of  the  two  she  was  best 
adapted  for,  I  'd  say  she  'd  make  a  better  heathen," 
remarked  Miranda  curtly. 

"  My  sister  don't  believe  in  flattering  children," 
hastily  interpolated  Jane,  glancing  toward  Mrs. 
Burch,  who  seemed  somewhat  shocked,  and  was 
about  to  open  her  lips  to  ask  if  Rebecca  was  not 
a  "professor." 

Mrs.  Cobb  had  been  looking  for  this  question  all 
the  evening  and  dreading  some  allusion  to  her  fa 
vorite  as  gifted  in  prayer.  She  had  taken  an  instan 
taneous  and  illogical  dislike  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burcb 


202  REBECCA 

in  the  afternoon  because  he  called  upon  Rebecca 
to  "lead."  She  had  seen  the  pallor  creep  into  the 
girl's  face,  the  hunted  look  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
trembling  of  the  lashes  on  her  cheeks,  and  realized 
the  ordeal  through  which  she  was  passing.  Her 
prejudice  against  the  minister  had  relaxed  under  his 
genial  talk  and  presence,  but  feeling  that  Mrs. 
Burch  was  about  to  tread  on  dangerous  ground,  she 
hastily  asked  her  if  one  had  to  change  cars  many 
times  going  from  Riverboro  to  Syria.  She  felt  that 
it  was  not  a  particularly  appropriate  question,  but  it 
served  her  turn. 

Deacon  Milliken,  meantime,  said  to  Miss  Sawyer, 
1  Mirandy,  do  you  know  who  Rebecky  reminds  me 
of?" 

"  I  can  guess  pretty  well,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  you  've  noticed  it  too  !  I  thought  at  first, 
seein'  she  favored  her  father  so  on  the  outside,  that 
she  was  the  same  all  through ;  but  she  ain't,  she  's 
like  your  father,  Israel  Sawyer." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  make  that  out,"  said  Mi 
randa,  thoroughly  astonished. 

"  It  struck  me  this  afternoon  when  she  got  up 
to  give  your  invitation  in  meetin'.  It  was  kind  o' 
cur'ous,  but  she  set  in  the  same  seat  he  used  to 
when  he  was  leader  o'  the  Sabbath-school.  You 
know  his  ola  way  of  holdin'  his  chin  up  and  throwin' 
his  head  back  a  leetle  when  he  got  up  to  say  any 
thing  ?  Well,  she  done  the  very  same  thing ;  there 
was  more  'n  one  spoke  of  it." 


REBECCA  203 

The  callers  left  before  nine,  and  at  that  hour  (an 
impossibly  dissipated  one  for  the  brick  house)  the 
family  retired  for  the  night.  As  Rebecca  carried 
Mrs.  Burch's  candle  upstairs  and  found  herself 
thus  alone  with  her  for  a  minute,  she  said  shyly, 
"  Will  you  please  tell  Mr.  Burch  that  I  'm  not  a 
member  of  the  church  ?  I  did  n't  know  what  to  do 
when  he  asked  me  to  pray  this  afternoon.  I  had  n't 
the  courage  to  say  I  had  never  done  it  out  loud 
and  didn't  know  how.  I  couldn't  think;  and  I  was 
so  frightened  I  wanted  to  sink  into  the  floor.  It 
seemed  bold  and  wicked  for  me  to  pray  before  all 
those  old  church  members  and  make  believe  I  was 
better  than  I  really  was  ;  but  then  again,  would  n't 
God  think  I  was  wicked  not  to  be  willing  to  pray 
when  a  minister  asked  me  to  ?  " 

The  candle  light  fell  on  Rebecca's  flushed,  sensi 
tive  face.  Mrs.  Burch  bent  and  kissed  her  good 
night.  "Don't  be  troubled,"  she  said.  "I'll  tell 
Mr.  Burch,  and  I  guess  God  will  understand." 

Rebecca  waked  before  six  the  next  morning,  so 
full  of  household  cares  that  sleep  was  impossible. 
She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out ;  it  was 
still  dark,  and  a  blustering,  boisterous  day. 

"  Aunt  Jane  told  me  she  should  get  up  at  half 
past  six  and  have  breakfast  at  half  past  seven,"  she 
thought ;  "  but  I  daresay  they  are  both  sick  with 
their  colds,  and  aunt  Miranda  will  be  fidgety  with 


204  REBECCA 

so  many  in  the  house.  I  believe  I  '11  creep  down 
and  start  things  for  a  surprise." 

She  put  on  a  wadded  wrapper  and  slippers  and 
stole  quietly  down  the  tabooed  front  stairs,  care 
fully  closed  the  kitchen  door  behind  her  so  that  no 
noise  should  waken  the  rest  of  the  household,  busied 
herself  for  a  half  hour  with  the  early  morning  routine 
she  knew  so  well,  and  then  went  back  to  her  room 
to  dress  before  calling  the  children. 

Contrary  to  expectation,  Miss  Jane,  who  the 
evening  before  felt  better  than  Miranda,  grew  worse 
in  the  night,  and  was  wholly  unable  to  leave  her  bed 
in  the  morning.  Miranda  grumbled  without  ceasing 
during  the  progress  of  her  hasty  toilet,  blaming 
everybody  in  the  universe  for  the  afflictions  she  had 
borne  and  was  to  bear  during  the  day;  she  even 
castigated  the  Missionary  Board  that  had  sent  the 
Burches  to  Syria,  and  gave  it  as  her  unbiased  opinion 
that  those  who  went  to  foreign  lands  for  the  pur 
pose  of  saving  heathen  should  stay  there  and  save 
'em,  and  not  go  gallivantin'  all  over  the  earth  with 
a  passel  o'  children,  visitin'  folks  that  did  n't  want 
'em  and  never  asked  'em. 

Jane  lay  anxiously  and  restlessly  in  bed  with  a 
feverish  headache,  wondering  how  her  sister  could 
manage  without  her. 

Miranda  walked  stiffly  through  the  dining-room, 
tying  a  shawl  over  her  head  to  keep  the  draughts 
away,  intending  to  start  the  breakfast  fire  and  then 


REBECCA  205 

call  Rebecca  down,  set  her  to  work,  and  tell  her, 
meanwhile,  a  few  plain  facts  concerning  the  proper 
way  of  representing  the  family  at  a  missionary 
meeting. 

She  opened  the  kitchen  door  and  stared  vaguely 
about  her,  wondering  whether  she  had  strayed  into 
the  wrong  house  by  mistake. 

The  shades  were  up,  and  there  was  a  roaring  fire 
in  the  stove  ;  the  teakettle  was  singing  and  bub 
bling  as  it  sent  out  a  cloud  of  steam,  and  pushed 
over  its  capacious  nose  was  a  half  sheet  of  note 
paper  with  "  Compliments  of  Rebecca "  scrawled 
on  it.  The  coffee  pot  was  scalding,  the  coffee  was 
measured  out  in  a  bowl,  and  broken  eggshells  for 
the  settling  process  were  standing  near.  The  cold 
potatoes  and  corned  beef  were  in  the  wooden  tray, 
and  "  Regards  of  Rebecca  "  stuck  on  the  chopping 
knife.  The  brown  loaf  was  out,  the  white  loaf  was 
out,  the  toast  rack  was  out,  the  doughnuts  were  out, 
the  milk  was  skimmed,  the  butter  had  been  brought 
from  the  dairy. 

Miranda  removed  the  shawl  from  her  head  and 
sank  into  the  kitchen  rocker,  ejaculating  under  her 
breath,  "  She  is  the  beatin'est  child  !  I  declare  she 's 
all  Sawyer !  " 

The  day  and  the  evening  passed  off  with  credit 
and  honor  to  everybody  concerned,  even  to  Jane, 
who  had  the  discretion  to  recover  instead  of  grow 
ing  worse  and  acting  as  a  damper  to  ^he  general 


206  REBECCA 

enjoyment.  The  Burches  left  with  lively  regrets, 
and  the  little  missionaries,  bathed  in  tears,  swore 
eternal  friendship  with  Rebecca,  who  pressed  into 
their  hands  at  parting  a  poem  composed  before 
breakfast. 

TO  MAKY  AND  MARTHA  BURCH 

Born  under  Syrian  skies, 

'Neath  hotter  suns  than  ours ; 
The  children  grew  and  bloomed, 

Like  little  tropic  flowers. 

When  they  first  saw  the  light, 

'T  was  in  a  heathen  land. 
Not  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

Nor  India's  coral  strand, 

But  some  mysterious  country 

Where  men  are  nearly  black 
And  where  of  true  religion, 

There  is  a  painful  lack. 

Then  let  us  haste  in  helping 

The  Missionary  Board, 
Seek  dark-skinned  unbelievers, 

And  teach  them  of  their  Lord. 

REBECCA  ROWENA  RANDALL. 

It  can  readily  be  seen  that  this  visit  of  the  re 
turned  missionaries  to  Riverboro  was  not  without 
somewhat  far-reaching  results.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burch 
themselves  looked  back  upon  it  as  one  of  the  rarest 
pleasures  of  their  half  year  at  home.  The  neigh 
borhood  extracted  considerable  eager  conversation 
from  it ;  argument,  rebuttal,  suspicion,  certainty, 


REBECCA  207 

retrospect,  and  prophecy.  Deacon  Milliken  gave  ten 
dollars  towards  the  conversion  of  Syria  to  Congre 
gationalism,  and  Mrs.  Milliken  had  a  spell  of  sick 
ness  over  her  husband's  rash  generosity. 

It  would  be  pleasant  to  state  that  Miranda  Saw 
yer  was  an  entirely  changed  woman  afterwards,  but 
that  is  not  the  fact.  The  tree  that  has  been  getting 
a  twist  for  twenty  years  cannot  be  straightened 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  It  is  certain,  however, 
that  although  the  difference  to  the  outward  eye 
was  very  small,  it  nevertheless  existed,  and  she  was 
less  censorious  in  her  treatment  of  Rebecca,  less 
harsh  in  her  judgments,  more  hopeful  of  final  sal 
vation  for  her.  This  had  come  about  largely  from 
her  sudden  vision  that  Rebecca,  after  all,  inherited 
something  from  the  Sawyer  side  of  the  house  instead 
of  belonging,  mind,  body,  and  soul,  to  the  despised 
Randall  stock.  Everything  that  was  interesting  in 
Rebecca,  and  every  evidence  of  power,  capability, 
or  talent  afterwards  displayed  by  her,  Miranda  as 
cribed  to  the  brick  house  training,  and  this  gave 
her  a  feeling  of  honest  pride,  the  pride  of  a  master 
workman  who  has  built  success  out  of  the  most 
unpromising  material ;  but  never,  to  the  very  end, 
even  when  the  waning  of  her  bodily  strength  relaxed 
her  iron  grip  and  weakened  her  power  of  repres 
sion,  never  once  did  she  show  that  pride  or  make  a 
single  demonstration  of  affection. 

Poor  misplaced,  belittled  Lorenzo  de  Medici  Ran- 


208  REBECCA 

dall,  thought  ridiculous  and  good-for-naught  by  his 
associates,  because  he  resembled  them  in  nothing  ! 
If  Riverboro  could  have  been  suddenly  emptied  into 
a  larger  community,  with  different  and  more  flexible 
opinions,  he  was,  perhaps,  the  only  personage  in 
the  entire  population  who  would  have  attracted  the 
smallest  attention.  It  was  fortunate  for  his  daugh 
ter  that  she  had  been  dowered  with  a  little  practi 
cal  ability  from  her  mother's  family,  but  if  Lorenzo 
had  never  done  anything  else  in  the  world,  he  might 
have  glorified  himself  that  he  had  prevented  Rebecca 
from  being  all  Sawyer.  Failure  as  he  was,  complete 
and  entire,  he  had  generously  handed  down  to  her 
all  that  was  best  in  himself,  and  prudently  retained 
all  that  was  unworthy.  Few  fathers  are  capable  of 
such  delicate  discrimination. 

The  brick  house  did  not  speedily  become  a  sort 
of  wayside  inn,  a  place  of  innocent  revelry  and  joy 
ous  welcome ;  but  the  missionary  company  was  an 
entering  wedge,  and  Miranda  allowed  one  spare  bed 
to  be  made  up  "in  case  anything  should  happen," 
while  the  crystal  glasses  were  kept  on  the  second 
from  the  top,  instead  of  the  top  shelf,  in  the  china 
closet.  Rebecca  had  had  to  stand  on  a  chair  to  reach 
them  ;  now  she  could  do  it  by  stretching ;  and  this 
is  symbolic  of  the  way  in  which  she  unconsciously 
scaled  the  walls  of  Miss  Miranda's  dogmatism  and 
prejudice. 

Miranda  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  would  n't 


REBECCA  209 

inind  if  the  Burches  came  every  once  in  a  while,  but 
she  was  afraid  he  'd  spread  abroad  the  fact  of  his 
visit,  and  missionaries'  families  would  be  underfoot 
the  whole  continual  time.  As  a  case  in  point,  she 
gracefully  cited  the  fact  that  if  a  tramp  got  a  good 
meal  at  anybody's  back  door,  'twas  said  that  he  'd 
leave  some  kind  of  a  sign  so  that  all  other  tramps 
would  know  where  they  were  likely  to  receive  the 
same  treatment. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  there  is  some  truth  in  this 
homely  illustration,  and  Miss  Miranda's  dread  as 
to  her  future  responsibilities  had  some  foundation, 
though  not  of  the  precise  sort  she  had  in  mind. 
The  soul  grows  into  lovely  habits  as  easily  as  into 
ugly  ones,  and  the  moment  a  life  begins  to  blossom 
into  beautiful  words  and  deeds,  that  moment  a  new 
standard  of  conduct  is  established,  and  your  eager 
neighbors  look  to  you  for  a  continuous  manifestation 
of  the  good  cheer,  the  sympathy,  the  ready  wit,  the 
comradeship,  or  the  inspiration,  you  once  showed 
yourself  capable  of.  Bear  figs  for  a  season  or  two, 
and  the  world  outside  the  orchard  is  very  unwilling 
you  should  bear  thistles. 

The  effect  of  the  Burches'  visit  on  Rebecca  is  not 
easily  described.  Nevertheless,  as  she  looked  back 
upon  it  from  the  vantage  ground  of  after  years,  she 
felt  that  the  moment  when  Mr.  Burch  asked  her  to 
*'  lead  in  prayer  "  marked  an  epoch  in  her  life. 

If  you  have  ever  observed  how  courteous  and 


2io  REBECCA 

gracious  and  mannerly  you  feel  when  you  don  a 
beautiful  new  frock ;  if  you  have  ever  noticed  the 
feeling  of  reverence  stealing  over  you  when  you 
close  your  eyes,  clasp  your  hands,  and  bow  your 
head ;  if  you  have  ever  watched  your  sense  of  re 
pulsion  toward  a  fellow  creature  melt  a  little  under 
the  exercise  of  daily  politeness,  you  may  understand 
how  the  adoption  of  the  outward  and  visible  sign 
has  some  strange  influence  in  developing  the  inward 
and  spiritual  state  of  which  it  is  the  expression. 

It  is  only  when  one  has  grown  old  and  dull  that 
the  soul  is  heavy  and  refuses  to  rise.  The  young 
soul  is  ever  winged  ;  a  breath  stirs  it  to  an  upward 
flight.  Rebecca  was  asked  to  bear  witness  to  a 
state  of  mind  or  feeling  of  whose  existence  she  had 
only  the  vaguest  consciousness.  She  obeyed,  and  as 
she  uttered  words  they  became  true  in  the  uttering ; 
as  she  voiced  aspirations  they  settled  into  realities. 

As  "dove  that  to  its  window  flies,"  her  spirit 
soared  towards  a  great  light,  dimly  discovered  at 
first,  but  brighter  as  she  came  closer  to  it.  To 
become  sensible  of  oneness  with  the  Divine  heart 
before  any  sense  of  separation  has  been  felt,  this  is 
surely  the  most  beautiful  way  for  the  child  to  find 
God 


XXI 

THE    SKY   LINE  WIDENS 

THE  time  so  long  and  eagerly  waited  for 
had  come,  and  Rebecca  was  a  student  at 
Wareham.  Persons  who  had  enjoyed  the 
social  bewilderments  and  advantages  of  foreign 
courts,  or  had  mingled  freely  in  the  intellectual 
circles  of  great  universities,  might  not  have  looked 
upon  Wareham  as  an  extraordinary  experience ; 
but  it  was  as  much  of  an  advance  upon  Riverboro 
as  that  village  had  been  upon  Sunnybrook  Farm. 
Rebecca's  intention  was  to  complete  the  four 
years'  course  in  three,  as  it  was  felt  by  all  the  par 
ties  concerned  that  when  she  had  attained  the  ripe 
age  of  seventeen  she  must  be  ready  to  earn  her 
own  living  and  help  in  the  education  of  the  younger 
children.  While  she  was  wondering  how  this  could 
be  successfully  accomplished,  some  of  the  other 
girls  were  cogitating  as  to  how  they  could  meander 
through  the  four  years  and  come  out  at  the  end 
knowing  no  more  than  at  the  beginning.  This 
would  seem  a  difficult,  well-nigh  an  impossible  task, 
but  it  can  be  achieved,  and  has  been,  at  other  seats 
of  learning  than  modest  little  Wareham. 

Rebecca  was  to  go  to  and  fro  on  the  cars  daily 
from  September  to  Christmas,  and  ther.  board  in 


212  REBECCA 

Wareham  during  the  three  coldest  months.  Emma 
Jane's  parents  had  always  thought  that  a  year  or 
two  in  the  Edgewood  high  school  (three  miles  from 
Riverboro)  would  serve  every  purpose  for  their 
daughter  and  send  her  into  the  world  with  as  fine 
an  intellectual  polish  as  she  could  well  sustain, 
Emma  Jane  had  hitherto  heartily  concurred  in 
this  opinion,  for  if  there  was  any  one  thing  that 
she  detested  it  was  the  learning  of  lessons.  One 
book  was  as  bad  as  another  in  her  eyes,  and  she 
could  have  seen  the  libraries  of  the  world  sinking 
into  ocean  depths  and  have  eaten  her  dinner  cheer 
fully  the  while ;  but  matters  assumed  a  different 
complexion  when  she  was  sent  to  Edgewood  and 
Rebecca  to  Wareham.  She  bore  it  for  a  week  — 
seven  endless  days  of  absence  from  the  beloved 
object,  whom  she  could  see  only  in  the  evenings 
when  both  were  busy  with  their  lessons.  Sunday 
offered  an  opportunity  to  put  the  matter  before 
her  father,  who  proved  obdurate.  He  did  n't  be 
lieve  in  education  and  thought  she  had  full  enough 
already.  He  never  intended  to  keep  up  "  black- 
smithing"  for  good  when  he  leased  his  farm  and 
came  into  Riverboro,  but  proposed  to  go  back  to 
it  presently,  and  by  that  time  Emma  Jane  would 
have  finished  school  and  would  be  ready  to  help 
her  mother  with  the  dairy  work. 

Another  week  passed.  Emma  Jane  pined  visi 
bly  and  audibly.  Her  color  faded,  and  her  appetite 
(at  tableN  dwindled  almost  to  nothing. 


REBECCA  213 

Her  mother  alluded  plaintively  to  the  fact  that 
the  Perkinses  had  a  habit  of  going  into  declines ; 
that  she  'd  always  feared  that  Emma  Jane's  com 
plexion  was  too  beautiful  to  be  healthy  ;  that  some 
men  would  be  proud  of  having  an  ambitious  daugh 
ter,  and  be  glad  to  give  her  the  best  advantages ; 
that  she  feared  the  daily  journeys  to  Edgewood 
were  going  to  be  too  much  for  her  own  health, 
and  Mr.  Perkins  would  have  to  hire  a  boy  to  drive 
Emma  Jane  ;  and  finally  that  when  a  girl  had  such 
a  passion  for  learning  as  Emma  Jane,  it  seemed 
almost  like  wickedness  to  cross  her  will. 

Mr.  Perkins  bore  this  for  several  days  until  his 
temper,  digestion,  and  appetite  were  all  sensibly 
affected ;  then  he  bowed  his  head  to  the  inevitable, 
and  Emma  Jane  flew,  like  a  captive  set  free,  to  the 
loved  one's  bower.  Neither  did  her  courage  flag, 
although  it  was  put  to  terrific  tests  when  she  entered 
the  academic  groves  of  Wareham.  She  passed  in 
only  two  subjects,  but  went  cheerfully  into  the 
preparatory  department  with  her  five  "  conditions," 
intending  to  let  the  stream  of  education  play  gently 
over  her  mental  surfaces  and  not  get  any  wetter  than 
she  could  help.  It  is  not  possible  to  blink  the  truth 
that  Emma  Jane  was  dull ;  but  a  dogged,  unswerv 
ing  loyalty,  and  the  gift  of  devoted,  unselfish  lov 
ing,  these,  after  all,  are  talents  of  a  sort,  and  may 
possibly  be  of  as  much  value  in  the  world  as  a  sense 
rt  numbers  or  a  faculty  for  languages. 


214  REBECCA 

Wareham  was  a  pretty  village  with  a  broad  main 
street  shaded  by  great  maples  and  elms.  It  had  an 
apothecary,  a  blacksmith,  a  plumber,  several  shops 
of  one  sort  and  another,  two  churches,  and  many 
boarding-houses  ;  but  all  its  interests  gathered  about 
its  seminary  and  its  academy.  These  seats  of  learn 
ing  were  neither  better  nor  worse  than  others  of 
their  kind,  but  differed  much  in  efficiency,  according 
as  the  principal  who  chanced  to  be  at  the  head  was 
a  man  of  power  and  inspiration  or  the  reverse. 
There  were  boys  and  girls  gathered  from  all  parts 
tf  the  county  and  state,  and  they  were  of  every 
kind  and  degree  as  to  birth,  position  in  the  world, 
wealth  or  poverty.  There  was  an  opportunity  for  a 
deal  of  foolish  and  imprudent  behavior,  but  on  the 
whole  surprisingly  little  advantage  was  taken  of  it. 
Among  the  third  and  fourth  year  students  there 
was  a  certain  amount  of  going  to  and  from  the 
trains  in  couples ;  some  carrying  of  heavy  books 
up  the  hill  by  the  sterner  sex  for  their  feminine 
schoolmates,  and  occasional  bursts  of  silliness  on 
the  part  of  heedless  and  precocious  girls,  among 
whom  was  Huldah  Meserve.  She  was  friendly 
enough  with  Emma  Jane  and  Rebecca,  but  grew 
less  and  less  intimate  as  time  went  on.  She  was 
extremely  pretty,  with  a  profusion  of  auburn  hair, 
and  a  few  very  tiny  freckles,  to  which  she  con 
stantly  alluded,  as  no  one  could  possibly  detect 
them  without  noting  her  porcelain  skin  and  her 


REBECCA  215 

curling  lashes.  She  had  merry  eyes,  a  somewhat 
too  plump  figure  for  her  years,  and  was  popularly 
supposed  to  have  a  fascinating  way  with  her. 
Riverboro  being  poorly  furnished  with  beaux,  she 
intended  to  have  as  good  a  time  during  her  four 
years  at  Wareham  as  circumstances  would  permit. 
Her  idea  of  pleasure  was  an  ever-changing  circle 
of  admirers  to  fetch  and  carry  for  her,  the  more 
publicly  the  better ;  incessant  chaff  and  laughter 
and  vivacious  conversation,  made  eloquent  and 
effective  by  arch  looks  and  telling  glances.  She 
had  a  habit  of  confiding  her  conquests  to  less  for 
tunate  girls  and  bewailing  the  incessant  havoc  and 
damage  she  was  doing ;  a  damage  she  avowed  her 
self  as  innocent  of,  in  intention,  as  any  new-born 
lamb.  It  does  not  take  much  of  this  sort  of  thing 
to  wreck  an  ordinary  friendship,  so  before  long 
Rebecca  and  Emma  Jane  sat  in  one  end  of  the 
lailway  train  in  going  to  and  from  Riverboro,  and 
Huldah  occupied  the  other  with  her  court.  Some 
times  this  was  brilliant  beyond  words,  including 
a  certain  youthful  Monte  Cristo,  who  on  Fridays 
expended  thirty  cents  on  a  round  trip  ticket  and 
traveled  from  Wareham  to  Riverboro  merely  to  be 
near  Huldah  ;  sometimes,  too,  the  circle  was  reduced 
to  the  popcorn-and-peanut  boy  of  the  train,  who 
seemed  to  serve  every  purpose  in  default  of  better 
game. 

Rebecca  was  in  the  normally  unconscious  state 


216  REBECCA 

that  belonged  to  her  years ;  boys  were  good  com 
rades,  but  no  more  ;  she  liked  reciting  in  the  same 
class  with  them,  everything  seemed  to  move  better ; 
but  from  vulgar  and  precocious  flirtations  she  was 
protected  by  her  ideals.  There  was  little  in  the 
lads  she  had  met  thus  far  to  awaken  her  fancy,  for 
it  habitually  fed  on  better  meat.  Huldah's  school 
girl  romances,  with  their  wealth  of  commonplace 
detail,  were  not  the  stuff  her  dreams  were  made  of, 
when  dreams  did  flutter  across  the  sensitive  plate  of 
her  mind. 

Among  the  teachers  at  Wareham  was  one  who 
influenced  Rebecca  profoundly,  Miss  Emily  Max 
well,  with  whom  she  studied  English  literature  and 
composition.  Miss  Maxwell,  as  the  niece  of  one 
of  Maine's  ex-governors  and  the  daughter  of  one  of 
Bowdoin's  professors,  was  the  most  remarkable  per 
sonality  in  Wareham,  and  that  her  few  years  of 
teaching  happened  to  be  in  Rebecca's  time  was  the 
happiest  of  all  chances.  There  was  no  indecision  or 
delay  in  the  establishment  of  their  relations ;  Re 
becca's  heart  flew  like  an  arrow  to  its  mark,  and 
her  mind,  meeting  its  superior,  settled  at  once  into 
an  abiding  attitude  of  respectful  homage. 

It  was  rumored  that  Miss  Maxwell  "wrote," 
which  word,  when  uttered  in  a  certain  tone,  was 
understood  to  mean  not  that  a  person  had  command 
of  penmanship,  Spencerian  or  otherwise,  but  that 
she  kad  appeared  in  print 


REBECCA  217 

"You  '11  like  her  ;  she  writes,"  whispered  Huldah 
to  Rebecca  the  first  morning  at  prayers,  where  the 
faculty  sat  in  an  imposing  row  on  the  front  seats. 
"  She  writes ;  and  I  call  her  stuck  up." 

Nobody  seemed  possessed  of  exact  information 
with  which  to  satisfy  the  hungry  mind,  but  there  was 
believed  to  be  at  least  one  person  in  existence  who 
had  seen,  with  his  own  eyes,  an  essay  by  Miss  Max 
well  in  a  magazine.  This  height  of  achievement 
made  Rebecca  somewhat  shy  of  her,  but  she  looked 
her  admiration ;  something  that  most  of  the  class 
could  never  do  with  the  unsatisfactory  organs  of 
vision  given  them  by  Mother  Nature.  Miss  Max 
well's  glance  was  always  meeting  a  pair  of  eager 
dark  eyes  ;  when  she  said  anything  particularly 
good,  she  looked  for  approval  to  the  corner  of  the 
second  bench,  where  every  shade  of  feeling  she 
wished  to  evoke  was  reflected  on  a  certain  sensitive 
young  face. 

One  day,  when  the  first  essay  of  the  class  was 
under  discussion,  she  asked  each  new  pupil  to  bring 
her  some  composition  written  during  the  year  before, 
that  she  might  judge  the  work,  and  know  precisely 
with  what  material  she  had  to  deal.  Rebecca  lin 
gered  after  the  others,  and  approached  the  desk 
shyly. 

"  I  have  n't  any  compositions  here,  Miss  Max 
well,  but  I  can  find  one  when  I  go  home  on  Friday. 
They  are  packed  away  in  a  box  in  the  attic." 


218  REBECCA 

"  Carefully  tied  with  pink  and  blue  ribbons  ? " 
asked  Miss  Maxwell,  with  a  whimsical  smile. 

"  No,"  answered  Rebecca,  shaking  her  head  de» 
cidedly ;  "I  wanted  to  use  ribbons,  because  all  the 
other  girls  did,  and  they  looked  so  pretty,  but  I 
used  to  tie  my  essays  with  twine  strings  on  pur 
pose  ;  and  the  one  on  solitude  I  fastened  with  an 
old  shoelacing  just  to  show  it  what  I  thought  of 
it!" 

"  Solitude  !  "  laughed  Miss  Maxwell,  raising  her 
eyebrows.  "  Did  you  choose  your  own  subject  ?  " 

"  No ;  Miss  Dearborn  thought  we  were  not  old 
enough  to  find  good  ones." 

"  What  were  some  of  the  others  ? " 

"  Fireside  Reveries,  Grant  as  a  Soldier,  Reflec 
tions  on  the  Life  of  P.  T.  Barnum,  Buried  Cities ; 
I  can't  remember  any  more  now.  They  were  all  bad, 
and  I  can't  bear  to  show  them  ;  I  can  write  poetry 
easier  and  better,  Miss  Maxwell." 

"  Poetry !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Did  Miss  Dearborn 
require  you  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  always  did  it  even  at  the  farm.  Shall 
I  bring  all  I  have  ?  It  is  n't  much." 

Rebecca  took  the  blank-book  in  which  she  kept 
copies  of  her  effusions  and  left  it  at  Miss  Maxwell's 
door,  hoping  that  she  might  be  asked  in  and  thus 
obtain  a  private  interview ;  but  a  servant  answered 
her  ring,  and  she  could  only  walk  away,  disap 
pointed. 


REBECCA  219 

A  few  days  afterward  she  saw  the  black-covered 
book  on  Miss  Maxwell's  desk  and  knew  that  the 
dreaded  moment  of  criticism  had  come,  so  she  was 
not  surprised  to  be  asked  to  remain  after  class. 

The  room  was  quiet ;  the  red  leaves  rustled  in 
the  breeze  and  flew  in  at  the  open  window,  bearing 
the  first  compliments  of  the  season.  Miss  Maxwell 
came  and  sat  by  Rebecca's  side  on  the  bench. 

"  Did  you  think  these  were  good  ? "  she  asked, 
giving  her  the  verses. 

"  Not  so  very,"  confessed  Rebecca ;  "  but  it 's 
hard  to  tell  all  by  yourself.  The  Perkinses  and  the 
Cobbs  always  said  they  were  wonderful,  but  when 
Mrs.  Cobb  told  me  she  thought  they  were  better 
than  Mr.  Longfellow's  I  was  worried,  because  I 
knew  that  could  n't  be  true." 

This  ingenuous  remark  confirmed  Miss  Maxwell's 
opinion  of  Rebecca  as  a  girl  who  could  hear  the 
truth  and  profit  by  it. 

"Well,  my  child,"  she  said  smilingly,  "  your 
friends  were  wrong  and  you  were  right  ;  judged  by 
the  proper  tests,  they  are  pretty  bad." 

"  Then  I  must  give  up  all  hope  of  ever  being  a 
writer ! "  sighed  Rebecca,  who  was  tasting  the  bit 
terness  of  hemlock  and  wondering  if  she  could 
keep  the  tears  back  until  the  interview  was  over. 

"Don't  go  so  fast,"  interrupted  Miss  Maxwell. 
"  Though  they  don't  amount  to  anything  as  poetry, 
they  show  a  good  deal  of  promise  in  certain  direc- 


220  REBECCA 

tions.  You  almost  never  make  a  mistake  in  rhyme 
or  metre,  and  this  shows  you  have  a  natural  sense 
of  what  is  right ;  a  '  sense  of  form,'  poets  would 
call  it.  When  you  grow  older,  have  a  little  more 
experience,  —  in  fact,  when  you  have  something 
to  say,  I  think  you  may  write  very  good  verses, 
Poetry  needs  knowledge  and  vision,  experience  and 
imagination,  Rebecca.  You  have  not  the  first  three 
yet,  but  I  rather  think  you  have  a  touch  of  the  last." 

"Must  I  never  try  any  more  poetry,  not  even 
to  amuse  myself  ?  " 

"  Certainly  you  may ;  it  will  only  help  you  to 
write  better  prose.  Now  for  the  first  composition. 
I  am  going  to  ask  all  the  new  students  to  write  a 
letter  giving  some  description  of  the  town  and  a 
hint  of  the  school  life." 

"  Shall  I  have  to  be  myself  ? "  asked  Rebecca. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  A  letter  from  Rebecca  Randall  to  her  sister 
Hannah  at  Sunnybrook  Farm,  or  to  her  aunt  Jane 
at  the  brick  house,  Riverboro,  is  so  dull  and  stupid, 
if  it  is  a  real  letter  ;  but  if  I  could  make  believe  I  was 
a  different  girl  altogether,  and  write  to  somebody 
who  would  be  sure  to  understand  everything  I  said, 
I  could  make  it  nicer." 

"Very  well;  I  think  that's  a  delightful  plan," 
said  Miss  Maxwell ;  "  and  whom  will  you  suppose 
yourself  to  be  ?  " 

"I  like  heiresses  very  much,"  replied   Rebecca 


REBECCA  221 

contemplatively.  "  Of  course  I  never  saw  one,  but 
interesting  things  are  always  happening  to  heir 
esses,  especially  to  the  golden-haired  kind.  My 
heiress  would  n't  be  vain  and  haughty  like  the 
wicked  sisters  in  Cinderella ;  she  would  be  noble 
and  generous.  She  would  give  up  a  grand  school 
in  Boston  because  she  wanted  to  come  here  where 
her  father  lived  when  he  was  a  boy,  long  before  he 
made  his  fortune.  The  father  is  dead  no\v,  and  she 
has  a  guardian,  the  best  and  kindest  man  in  the 
world ;  he  is  rather  old  of  course,  and  sometimes 
very  quiet  and  grave,  but  sometimes  when  he  is 
happy,  he  is  full  of  fun,  and  then  Evelyn  is  not  afraid 
of  him.  Yes,  the  girl  shall  be  called  Evelyn  Aber- 
crombie,  and  her  guardian's  name  shall  be  Mr.  Adam 
Ladd.' 

"  Dt,  you  know  Mr.  Ladd  ?  "  asked  Miss  Maxwell 
in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  he  's  my  very  best  friend,"  cried  Rebecca 
delightedly.  "  Do  you  know  him  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  he  is  a  trustee  of  these  schools,  you 
know,  and  often  comes  here.  But  if  I  let  you  '  sup 
pose  '  any  more,  you  will  tell  me  your  whole  letter 
and  then  I  shall  lose  a  pleasant  surprise." 

What  Rebecca  thought  of  Miss  Maxwell  we 
already  know  ;  how  the  teacher  regarded  the  pupil 
may  be  gathered  from  the  following  letter  written 
two  or  three  months  later. 


222  REBECCA 

WAREHAM,  December  ist. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  As  you  well  know,  I  have 
not  always  been  an  enthusiast  on  the  subject  of 
teaching.  The  task  of  cramming  knowledge  into 
these  self-sufficient,  inefficient  youngsters  of  both 
sexes  discourages  me  at  times.  The  more  stupid  they 
are,  the  less  they  are  aware  of  it.  If  my  department 
were  geography  or  mathematics,  I  believe  I  should 
feel  that  I  was  accomplishing  something,  for  in  those 
branches  application  and  industry  work  wonders ; 
but  in  English  literature  and  composition  one  yearns 
for  brains,  for  appreciation,  for  imagination  !  Month 
after  month  I  toil  on,  opening  oyster  after  oyster, 
but  seldom  finding  a  pearl.  Fancy  my  joy  this  term 
when,  without  any  violent  effort  at  shell-splitting, 
I  came  upon  a  rare  pearl ;  a  black  one,  but  of  satin 
skin  and  beautiful  lustre  !  Her  name  is  Rebecca, 
and  she  looks  not  unlike  Rebekah  at  the  Well  in  our 
family  Bible  ;  her  hair  and  eyes  being  so  dark  as 
to  suggest  a  strain  of  Italian  or  Spanish  blood.  She 
is  nobody  in  particular.  Man  has  done  nothing  for 
her ;  she  has  no  family  to  speak  of,  no  money,  no 
education  worthy  the  name,  has  had  no  advantages 
of  any  sort ;  but  Dame  Nature  flung  herself  into 
the  breach  and  said  :  — 

"  This  child  I  to  myself  will  take  ; 
She  shall  be  mine  and  I  will  make 
A  Lady  of  my  own." 


REBECCA  223 

Blessed  Wordsworth  !  How  he  makes  us  under 
stand  !  And  the  pearl  never  heard  of  him  until  now  ! 
Think  of  reading  Lucy  to  a  class,  and  when  you 
finish,  seeing  a  fourteen-year-old  pair  of  lips  quiver 
ing  with  delight,  and  a  pair  of  eyes  brimming  with 
comprehending  tears  ! 

You  poor  darling !  You,  too,  know  the  dis 
couragement  of  sowing  lovely  seed  in  rocky  earth, 
in  sand,  in  water,  and  (it  almost  seems  sometimes) 
in  mud  ;  knowing  that  if  anything  comes  up  at  all 
it  will  be  some  poor  starveling  plant.  Fancy  the  joy 
of  finding  a  real  mind ;  of  dropping  seed  in  a  soil 
so  warm,  so  fertile,  that  one  knows  there  are  sure 
to  be  foliage,  blossoms,  and  fruit  all  in  good  time ! 
I  wish  I  were  not  so  impatient  and  so  greedy  of 
results  !  I  am  not  fit  to  be  a  teacher ;  no  one  is 
who  is  so  scornful  of  stupidity  as  I  am.  .  .  .  The 
pearl  writes  quaint  countrified  little  verses,  dog 
gerel  they  are  ;  but  somehow  or  other  she  always 
contrives  to  put  in  one  line,  one  thought,  one  image, 
that  shows  you  she  is,  quite  unconsciously  to  herself, 
in  possession  of  the  secret.  .  .  .  Good-by  ;  I'll  bring 
Rebecca  home  with  me  some  Friday,  and  let  you 
and  mother  see  her  for  yourselves. 

Your  affectionate  daughter, 

EMILY. 


XXII 
CLOVER   BLOSSOMS   AND    SUNFLOWERS 

HOW  d'  ye  do,  girls?"  said  Huldah  Me- 
serve,  peeping  in  at  the  door.  "  Can  you 
stop  studying  a  minute  and  show  me  your 
room  ?  Say,  I  've  just  been  down  to  the  store 
and  bought  me  these  gloves,  for  I  was  bound  I 
would  n't  wear  mittens  this  winter ;  they  're  sim 
ply  too  countrified.  It 's  your  first  year  here,  and 
you  're  younger  than  I  am,  so  I  s'pose  you  don't 
mind,  but  I  simply  suffer  if  I  don't  keep  up  some 
kind  of  style.  Say,  your  room  is  simply  too  cute  for 
words  !  I  don't  believe  any  of  the  others  can  begin 
to  compare  with  it !  I  don't  know  what  gives  it  that 
simply  gorgeous  look,  whether  it 's  the  full  curtains, 
or  that  elegant  screen,  or  Rebecca's  lamp ;  but  you 
certainly  do  have  a  faculty  for  fixing  up.  I  like  a 
pretty  room  too,  but  I  never  have  a  minute  to  at 
tend  to  mine  ;  I  'm  always  so  busy  on  my  clothes  that 
half  the  time  I  don't  get  my  bed  made  up  till  noon ; 
and  after  all,  having  no  callers  but  the  girls,  it  don't 
make  much  difference.  When  I  graduate,  I  'm  going 
to  fix  up  our  parlor  at  home  so  it  '11  be  simply  regal. 
I  've  learned  decalcomania,  and  after  I  take  up  lustre 
painting  I  shall  have  it  simply  stiff  with  drapes  and 
tidies  and  placques  and  sofa  pillows,  and  make  mo- 


REBECCA  225 

ther  let  me  have  a  fire,  and  receive  my  friends  there 
evenings.  May  I  dry  my  feet  at  your  register  ?  I 
can't  bear  to  wear  rubbers  unless  the  mud  or  the 
slush  is  simply  knee-deep,  they  make  your  feet  look 
so  awfully  big.  I  had  such  a  fuss  getting  this  pair 
of  French-heeled  boots  that  I  don't  intend  to  spoil 
the  looks  of  them  with  rubbers  any  oftener  than  I 
can  help.  I  believe  boys  notice  feet  quicker  than 
anything.  Elmer  Webster  stepped  on  one  of  mine 
yesterday  when  I  accidentally  had  it  out  in  the 
aisle,  and  when  he  apologized  after  class,  he  said  he 
was  n't  so  much  to  blame,  for  the  foot  was  so  little 
he  really  could  n't  see  it !  Is  n't  he  perfectly  great  ? 
Of  course  that 's  only  his  way  of  talking,  for  after 
all  I  only  wear  a  number  two,  but  these  French 
heels  and  pointed  toes  do  certainly  make  your  foot 
look  smaller,  and  it 's  always  said  a  high  instep  helps, 
too.  I  used  to  think  mine  was  almost  a  deformity, 
but  they  say  it 's  a  great  beauty.  Just  put  your  feet 
beside  mine,  girls,  and  look  at  the  difference ;  not 
that  I  care  much,  but  just  for  fun." 

"My  feet  are  very  comfortable  where  they  are," 
responded  Rebecca  dryly.  "  I  can't  stop  to  measure 
insteps  on  algebra  days ;  I  've  noticed  your  habit 
of  keeping  a  foot  in  the  aisle  ever  since  you  had 
those  new  shoes,  so  I  don't  wonder  it  was  stepped 
on." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  mite  conscious  of  them, 
because  they  're  not  so  very  comfortable  at  first,  till 


226  REBECCA 

you  get  them  broken  in.  Say,  have  n't  you  got  a 
lot  of  new  things  ? " 

"  Our  Christmas  presents,  you  mean,"  said  Emma 
Jane.  "The  pillow-cases  are  from  Mrs.  Cobb,  the 
rug  from  cousin  Mary  in  North  Riverboro,  the 
scrap-basket  from  Living  and  Dick.  We  gave  each 
other  the  bureau  and  cushion  covers,  and  the  screen 
is  mine  from  Mr.  Ladd." 

"  Well,  you  were  lucky  when  you  met  him ! 
Gracious  !  I  wish  I  could  meet  somebody  like  that. 
The  way  he  keeps  it  up,  too !  It  just  hides  your 
bed,  does  n't  it,  and  I  always  say  that  a  bed  takes 
the  style  off  any  room  —  specially  when  it 's  not 
made  up ;  though  you  have  an  alcove,  and  it 's  the 
only  one  in  the  whole  building.  I  don't  see  how 
you  managed  to  get  this  good  room  when  you  're 
such  new  scholars,"  she  finished  discontentedly. 

"  We  should  n't  have,  except  that  Ruth  Berry 
had  to  go  away  suddenly  on  account  of  her  father's 
death.  This  room  was  empty,  and  Miss  Maxwell 
asked  if  we  might  have  it,"  returned  Emma  Jane. 

"  The  great  and  only  Max  is  more  stiff  and  stand 
offish  than  ever  this  year,"  said  Huldah.  "  I  Ve 
simply  given  up  trying  to  please  her,  for  there  's 
no  justice  in  her ;  she  is  good  to  her  favorites,  but 
she  does  n't  pay  the  least  attention  to  anybody  else, 
except  to  make  sarcastic  speeches  about  things 
that  are  none  of  her  business.  I  wanted  to  tell  her 
yesterday  it  was  her  place  to  teach  me  Latin,  not 


REBECCA  227 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  talk  against  Miss  Maxwell 
to  me,"  said  Rebecca  hotly.  "You  know  how  I 
feel." 

"  I  know ;  but  I  can't  understand  how  you  can 
abide  her." 

"I  not  only  abide,  I  love  her!"  exclaimed  Re 
becca.  "  I  would  n't  let  the  sun  shine  too  hot  on 
her,  or  the  wind  blow  too  cold.  I  'd  like  to  put  a 
marble  platform  in  her  class-room  and  have  her  sit 
in  a  velvet  chair  behind  a  golden  table !  " 

"Well,  don't  have  a  fit!  —  because  she  can  sit 
where  she  likes  for  all  of  me ;  I  've  got  something 
better  to  think  of,"  and  Huldah  tossed  her  head. 

"Isn't  this  your  study  hour?"  asked  Emma 
Jane,  to  stop  possible  discussion. 

"  Yes,  but  I  lost  my  Latin  grammar  yesterday ; 
I  left  it  in  the  hall  half  an  hour  while  I  was  having 
a  regular  scene  with  Herbert  Dunn.  I  haven't 
spoken  to  him  for  a  week  and  gave  him  back  his 
class  pin.  He  was  simply  furious.  Then  when  I 
came  back  to  the  hall,  the  book  was  gone.  I  had 
to  go  down  town  for  my  gloves  and  to  the  princi 
pal's  office  to  see  if  the  grammar  had  been  handed 
in,  and  that's  the  reason  I  'm  so  fine." 

Huldah  was  wearing  a  woolen  dress  that  had 
once  been  gray,  but  had  been  dyed  a  brilliant  blue. 
She  had  added  three  rows  of  white  braid  and  large 
white  pearl  buttons  to  her  gray  jacket,  in  order  to 
make  it  a  little  more  "dressy."  Her  gray  felt  hat 


228  REBECCA 

had  a  white  feather  on  it,  and  a  white  tissue  veil 
with  large  black  dots  made  her  delicate  skin  look 
brilliant.  Rebecca  thought  how  lovely  the  knot  of 
red  hair  looked  under  the  hat  behind,  and  how  the 
color  of  the  front  had  been  dulled  by  incessant 
frizzing  with  curling  irons.  Her  open  jacket  dis 
closed  a  galaxy  of  souvenirs  pinned  to  the  back 
ground  of  bright  blue,  —  a  small  American  flag,  a 
button  of  the  Wareham  Rowing  Club,  and  one  or 
two  society  pins.  These  decorations  proved  her 
popularity  in  very  much  the  same  way  as  do  the 
cotillion  favors  hanging  on  the  bedroom  walls  of 
the  fashionable  belle.  She  had  been  pinning  and 
unpinning,  arranging  and  disarranging  her  veil 
ever  since  she  entered  the  room,  in  the  hope  that 
the  girls  would  ask  her  whose  ring  she  was  wearing 
this  week.;  but  although  both  had  noticed  the  new 
ornament  instantly,  wild  horses  could  not  have 
drawn  the  question  from  them  ;  her  desire  to  be 
asked  was  too  obvious.  With  her  gay  plumage, 
her  "nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles,"  and  her 
cheerful  cackle,  Huldah  closely  resembled  the  par 
rot  in  Wordsworth's  poem  :  — 

"Arch,  volatile,  a  sportive  bird, 

By  social  glee  inspired ; 
Ambitious  to  be  seen  or  heard, 
And  pleased  to  be  admired !  " 

"  Mr.  Morrison  thinks  the  grammar  will  be  re 
turned,  and  lent  me  another,"  Huldah  continued. 


REBECCA  229 

"He  was  rather  snippy  about  my  leaving  a  book  in 
the  hall.  There  was  a  perfectly  elegant  gentleman 
in  the  office,  a  stranger  to  me.  I  wish  he  was  a  new 
teacher,  but  there  's  no  such  luck.  He  was  too 
young  to  be  the  father  of  any  of  the  girls,  and  too 
old  to  be  a  brother,  but  he  was  handsome  as  a  pic 
ture  and  had  on  an  awful  stylish  suit  of  clothes. 
He  looked  at  me  about  every  minute  I  was  in  the 
room.  It  made  me  so  embarrassed  I  could  n't  hardly 
answer  Mr.  Morrison's  questions  straight." 

"  You  '11  have  to  wear  a  mask  pretty  soon,  if 
you're  going  to  have  any  comfort,  Huldah,"  said 
Rebecca.  "  Did  he  offer  to  lend  you  his  class  pin, 
or  has  it  been  so  long  since  he  graduated  that  he  's 
left  off  wearing  it  ?  And  tell  us  now  whether  the 
principal  asked  for  a  lock  of  your  hair  to  put  in  his 
watch  ?  " 

This  was  all  said  merrily  and  laughingly,  but 
there  were  times  when  Huldah  could  scarcely  make 
up  her  mind  whether  Rebecca  was  trying  to  be 
witty,  or  whether  she  was  jealous  ;  but  she  gen 
erally  decided  it  was  merely  the  latter  feeling, 
rather  natural  in  a  girl  who  had  little  attention. 

"He  wore  no  jewelry  but  a  cameo  scarf  pin  and 
a  perfectly  gorgeous  ring,  —  a  queer  kind  of  one 
that  wound  round  and  round  his  finger.  Oh  dear, 
I  must  run  !  Where  has  the  hour  gone  ?  There  's 
the  study  bell !  " 

Rebecca  had  pricked  up  her  ears  at   Huldah's 


230  REBECCA 

speech.  She  remembered  a  certain  strange  ring, 
and  it  belonged  to  the  only  person  in  the  world  (save 
Miss  Maxwell)  who  appealed  to  her  imagination,  — 
Mr.  Aladdin.  Her  feeling  for  him,  and  that  of  Emma 
Jane,  was  a  mixture  of  romantic  and  reverent  ad 
miration  for  the  man  himself  and  the  liveliest  grati 
tude  for  his  beautiful  gifts.  Since  they  first  met  him 
not  a  Christmas  had  gone  by  without  some  remem 
brance  for  them  both  ;  remembrances  chosen  with 
the  rarest  taste  and  forethought.  Emma  Jane  had 
seen  him  only  twice,  but  he  had  called  several  times 
at  the  brick  house,  and  Rebecca  had  learned  to 
know  him  better.  It  was  she,  too,  who  always  wrote 
the  notes  of  acknowledgment  and  thanks,  taking 
infinite  pains  to  make  Emma  Jane's  quite  different 
from  her  own.  Sometimes  he  had  written  from 
Boston  and  asked  her  the  news  of  Riverboro,  and 
she  had  sent  him  pages  of  quaint  and  childlike  gos 
sip,  interspersed,  on  two  occasions,  with  poetry, 
which -he  read  and  reread  with  infinite  relish.  If 
Huldah's  stranger  should  be  Mr.  Aladdin,  would  he 
come  to  see  her,  and  could  she  and  Emma  Jane 
show  him  their  beautiful  room  with  so  many  of  his 
gifts  in  evidence  ? 

When  the  girls  had  established  themselves  in 
Wareham  as  real  boarding  pupils,  it  seemed  to 
them  existence  was  as  full  of  joy  as  it  well  could 
hold.  This  first  winter  was,  in  fact,  the  most  tran 
quilly  happy  of  Rebecca's  school  life,  —  a  winter 


REBECCA  231 

long  to  be  looked  back  upon.  She  and  Emma 
Jane  were  room-mates,  and  had  put  their  modest 
possessions  together  to  make  their  surroundings 
pretty  and  homelike.  The  room  had,  to  begin  with, 
a  cheerful  red  ingrain  carpet  and  a  set  of  maple 
furniture.  As  to  the  rest,  Rebecca  had  furnished 
the  ideas  and  Emma  Jane  the  materials  and  labor, 
a  method  of  dividing  responsibilities  that  seemed 
to  suit  the  circumstances  admirably.  Mrs.  Perkins's 
father  had  been  a  storekeeper,  and  on  his  death 
had  left  the  goods  of  which  he  was  possessed  to 
his  married  daughter.  The  molasses,  vinegar,  and 
kerosene  had  lasted  the  family  for  five  years,  and 
the  Perkins  attic  was  still  a  treasure-house  of 
ginghams,  cottons,  and  "Yankee  notions."  So  at 
Rebecca's  instigation  Mrs.  Perkins  had  made  full 
curtains  and  lambrequins  of  unbleached  muslin, 
which  she  had  trimmed  and  looped  back  with 
bands  of  Turkey  red  cotton.  There  were  two  table 
covers  to  match,  and  each  of  the  girls  had  her 
study  corner.  Rebecca,  after  much  coaxing,  had 
been  allowed  to  bring  over  her  precious  lamp, 
which  would  have  given  a  luxurious  air  to  any 
apartment,  and  when  Mr.  Aladdin's  last  Christmas 
presents  were  added,  —  the  Japanese  screen  for 
Emma  Jane  and  the  little  shelf  of  English  Poets 
for  Rebecca,  —  they  declared  that  it  was  all  quite 
as  much  fun  as  being  married  and  going  to  house 
keeping. 


232  REBECCA 

The  day  of  Huldah's  call  was  Friday,  and  on 
Fridays  from  three  to  half  past  four  Rebecca  was 
free  to  take  a  pleasure  to  which  she  looked  forward 
the  entire  week.  She  always  ran  down  the  snowy 
path  through  the  pine  woods  at  the  back  of  the 
seminary,  and  coming  out  on  a  quiet  village  street, 
went  directly  to  the  large  white  house  where  Miss 
Maxwell  lived.  The  maid-of -all- work  answered  her 
knock  ;  she  took  off  her  hat  and  cape  and  hung 
them  in  the  hall,  put  her  rubber  shoes  and  um 
brella  carefully  in  the  corner,  and  then  opened  the 
door  of  paradise.  Miss  Maxwell's  sitting-room  was 
lined  on  two  sides  with  bookshelves,  and  Rebecca 
was  allowed  to  sit  before  the  fire  and  browse 
among  the  books  to  her  heart's  delight  for  an  hour 
or  more.  Then  Miss  Maxwell  would  come  back 
from  her  class,  and  there  would  be  a  precious  half 
hour  of  chat  before  Rebecca  had  to  meet  Emma 
Jane  at  the  station  and  take  the  train  for  River- 
boro,  where  her  Saturdays  and  Sundays  were 
spent,  and  where  she  was  washed,  ironed,  mended, 
and  examined,  approved  and  reproved,  warned  and 
advised  in  quite  sufficient  quantity  to  last  her  the 
succeeding  week. 

On  this  Friday  she  buried  her  face  in  the  bloom 
ing  geraniums  on  Miss  Maxwell's  plant-stand,  se 
lected  Romola  from  one  of  the  bookcases,  and  sank 
into  a  seat  by  the  window  with  a  sigh  of  infinite 
content  She  glanced  at  the  clock  now  and  then, 


REBECCA  233 

remembering  the  day  on  which  she  had  been  so 
immersed  in  David  Copperfield  that  the  Riverboro 
train  had  no  place  in  her  mind.  The  distracted 
Emma  Jane  had  refused  to  leave  without  her,  and 
had  run  from  the  station  to  look  for  her  at  Miss 
Maxwell's.  There  was  but  one  later  train,  and  that 
went  only  to  a  place  three  miles  the  other  side 
of  Riverboro,  so  that  the  two  girls  appeared  at  their 
respective  homes  long  after  dark,  having  had  a 
weary  walk  in  the  snow. 

When  she  had  read  for  half  an  hour  she  glanced 
out  of  the  window  and  saw  two  figures  issuing  from 
the  path  through  the  woods.  The  knot  of  bright 
hair  and  the  coquettish  hat  could  belong  to  but 
one  person  ;  and  her  companion,  as  the  couple  ap 
proached,  proved  to  be  none  other  than  Mr.  Alad 
din.  Huldah  was  lifting  her  skirts  daintily  and 
picking  safe  stepping-places  for  the  high-heeled 
shoes,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her  eyes  sparkling  under 
the  black  and  white  veil. 

Rebecca  slipped  from  her  post  by  the  window  to 
the  rug  before  the  bright  fire  and  leaned  her  head 
on  the  seat  of  the  great  easy-chair.  She  was  fright 
ened  at  the  storm  in  her  heart  ;  at  the  suddenness 
with  which  it  had  come  on,  as  well  as  at  the  strange 
ness  of  an  entirely  new  sensation.  She  felt  all  at 
once  as  if  she  could  not  bear  to  give  up  her  share 
of  Mr.  Aladdin's  friendship  to  Huldah  :  Huldah  so 
bright,  saucy,  and  pretty ;  so  gay  and  ready,  and 


234  REBECCA 

such  good  company !  She  had  always  joyfully  ad 
mitted  Emma  Jane  into  the  precious  partnership, 
but  perhaps  unconsciously  to  herself  she  had  real 
ized  that  Emma  Jane  had  never  held  anything  but 
a  secondary  place  in  Mr.  Aladdin's  regard  ;  yet  who 
was  she  herself,  after  all,  that  she  could  hope  to  be 
first  ? 

Suddenly  the  door  opened  softly  and  somebody 
looked  in,  somebody  who  said :  "  Miss  Maxwell 
told  me  I  should  find  Miss  Rebecca  Randall  here." 

Rebecca  started  at  the  sound  and  sprang  to  her 
feet,  saying  joyfully,  "  Mr.  Aladdin  !  Oh  !  I  knew 
you  were  in  Wareham,  and  I  was  afraid  you 
would  n't  have  time  to  come  and  see  us." 

"  Who  is  *  us '  ?  The  aunts  are  not  here,  are 
they  ?  Oh,  you  mean  the  rich  blacksmith's  daugh 
ter,  whose  name  I  can  never  remember.  Is  she 
here?" 

"  Yes,  and  my  room-mate,"  answered  Rebecca, 
who  thought  her  own  knell  of  doom  had  sounded, 
if  he  had  forgotten  Emma  Jane's  name. 

The  light  in  the  room  grew  softer,  the  fire 
crackled  cheerily,  and  they  talked  of  many  things, 
until  the  old  sweet  sense  of  friendliness  and  famil 
iarity  crept  back  into  Rebecca's  heart.  Adam 
had  not  seen  her  for  several  months,  and  there  was 
much  to  be  learned  about  school  matters  as  viewed 
from  her  own  standpoint ;  he  had  already  inquired 
concerning  her  progress  from  Mr.  Morrison. 


REBECCA  235 

"Well,  little  Miss  Rebecca,"  he  said,  rousing 
himself  at  length,  "I  must  bethinking  of  my  drive 
to  Portland.  There  is  a  meeting  of  railway  di 
rectors  there  to-morrow,  and  I  always  take  this 
opportunity  of  visiting  the  school  and  giving  my 
valuable  advice  concerning  its  affairs,  educational 
and  financial." 

"  It  seems  funny  for  you  to  be  a  school  trustee/' 
said  Rebecca  contemplatively.  "  I  can't  seem  to 
make  it  fit." 

"  You  are  a  remarkably  wise  young  person  and 
I  quite  agree  with  you,"  he  answered  ;  "the  fact 
is,"  he  added  soberly,  "  I  accepted  the  trusteeship 
in  memory  of  my  poor  little  mother,  whose  lait 
happy  years  were  spent  here." 

"  That  was  a  long  time  ago  !  " 

"  Let  me  see,  I  am  thirty-two  ;  only  thirty -two, 
despite  an  occasional  gray  hair.  My  mother  was 
married  a  month  after  she  graduated,  and  she  lived 
only  until  I  was  ten ;  yes,  it  is  a  long  way  back  to 
my  mother's  time  here,  though  the  school  was  fif 
teen  or  twenty  years  old  then,  I  believe.  Would 
you  like  to  see  my  mother,  Miss  Rebecca  ?" 

The  girl  took  the  leather  case  gently  and  opened 
it  to  find  an  innocent,  pink-and-white  daisy  of  a 
face,  so  confiding,  so  sensitive,  that  it  went  straight 
to  the  heart.  It  made  Rebecca  feel  old,  experienced, 
and  maternal.  She  longed  on  the  instant  to  com 
fort  and  strengthen  such  a  tender  young  thing. 


236  REBECCA 

"  Oh,  what  a  sweet,  sweet,  flowery  face ! "  she 
whispered  softly. 

"  The  flower  had  to  bear  all  sorts  of  storms,"  said 
Adam  gravely.  "  The  bitter  weather  of  the  world 
bent  its  slender  stalk,  bowed  its  head,  and  dragged 
it  to  the  earth.  I  was  only  a  child  and  could  do 
nothing  to  protect  and  nourish  it,  and  there  was  no 
one  else  to  stand  between  it  and  trouble.  Now  I 
have  success  and  money  and  power,  all  that  would 
have  kept  her  alive  and  happy,  and  it  is  too  late. 
She  died  for  lack  of  love  and  care,  nursing  and 
cherishing,  and  I  can  never  forget  it.  All  that  has 
come  to  me  seems  now  and  then  so  useless,  since  I 
cannot  share  it  with  her  !  " 

This  was  a  new  Mr.  Aladdin,  and  Rebecca's  heart 
gave  a  throb  of  sympathy  and  comprehension.  This 
explained  the  tired  look  in  his  eyes,  the  look  that 
peeped  out  now  and  then,  under  all  his  gay  speech 
and  laughter. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  I  know,"  she  said,  "  and  so  glad  I 
could  see  her  just  as  she  was  when  she  tied  that 
white  muslin  hat  under  her  chin  and  saw  her  yellow 
curls  and  her  sky-blue  eyes  in  the  glass.  Must  n't 
she  have  been  happy  !  I  wish  she  could  have  been 
kept  so,  and  had  lived  to  see  you  grow  up  strong 
and  good.  My  mother  is  always  sad  and  busy,  but 
once  when  she  looked  at  John  I  heard  her  say,  '  He 
makes  up  for  everything. '  That '  s  what  your  mother 
would  have  thought  about  you  if  she  had  lived,  — 
and  perhaps  she  does  as  it  is." 


REBECCA  237 

"You  are  a  comforting  little  person,  Rebecca," 
said  Adam,  rising  from  his  chair. 

As  Rebecca  rose,  the  tears  still  trembling  on  her 
lashes,  he  looked  at  her  suddenly  as  with  new  vision. 

"  Good-by ! "  he  said,  taking  her  slim  brown 
hands  in  his,  adding,  as  if  he  saw  her  for  the  first 
time,  "  Why,  little  Rose-Red-Snow- White  is  making 
way  for  a  new  girl  !  Burning  the  midnight  oil  and 
doing  four  years'  work  in  three  is  supposed  to  dull 
the  eye  and  blanch  the  cheek,  yet  Rebecca's  eyes 
are  bright  and  she  has  a  rosy  color  !  Her  long  braids 
are  looped  one  on  the  other  so  that  they  make  a 
black  letter  U  behind,  and  they  are  tied  with  grand 
bows  at  the  top !  She  is  so  tall  that  she  reaches 
almost  to  my  shoulder.  This  will  never  do  in  the 
world !  How  will  Mr.  Aladdin  get  on  without  his 
comforting  little  friend  !  He  does  n't  like  grown-up 
young  ladies  in  long  trains  and  wonderful  fine 
clothes  ;  they  frighten  and  bore  him  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Aladdin ! "  cried  Rebecca  eagerly, 
talcing  his  jest  quite  seriously ;  "I  am  not  fifteen 
yet,  and  it  will  be  three  years  before  I  'm  a  young 
lady  ;  please  don't  give  me  up  until  you  have  to  !  " 

"  I  won't ;  I  promise  you  that,"  said  Adam. 
"Rebecca,"  he  continued,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  who  is  that  young  girl  with  a  lot  of  pretty  red 
hair  and  very  citified  manners  ?  She  escorted  me 
down  the  hill ;  do  you  know  whom  I  mean  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  Huldah  Meserve ;  she  is  from  River- 
boro." 


23«  REBECCA 

Adam  put  a  finger  under  Rebecca's  chin  and 
looked  into  her  eyes  ;  eyes  as  soft,  as  clear,  as  un 
conscious,  and  childlike  as  they  had  been  when  she 
was  ten.  He  remembered  the  other  pair  of  chal 
lenging  blue  ones  that  had  darted  coquettish  glances 
through  half-dropped  lids,  shot  arrowy  beams  from 
under  archly  lifted  brows,  and  said  gravely,  "  Don't 
form  yourself  on  her,  Rebecca ;  clover  blossoms 
that  grow  in  the  fields  beside  Sunnybrook  must  n't 
be  tied  in  the  same  bouquet  with  gaudy  sunflowers ; 
they  are  too  sweet  and  fragrant  and  wholesome." 


XXIII 

THE  HILL   DIFFICULTY 

THE  first  happy  year  at  War  eh  am,  with 
its  widened  sky-line,  its  larger  vision,  its 
greater  opportunity,  was  over  and  gone, 
Rebecca  had  studied  during  the  summer  vacation, 
and  had  passed,  on  her  return  in  the  autumn,  cer 
tain  examinations  which  would  enable  her,  if  she 
carried  out  the  same  programme  the  next  season, 
to  complete  the  course  in  three  instead  of  four 
years.  She  came  off  with  no  flying  colors,  —  that 
would  have  been  impossible  in  consideration  of  her 
inadequate  training ;  but  she  did  wonderfully  well 
in  some  of  the  required  subjects,  and  so  brilliantly 
in  others  that  the  average  was  respectable.  She 
would  never  have  been  a  remarkable  scholar  under 
any  circumstances,  perhaps,  and  she  was  easily  out 
stripped  in  mathematics  and  the  natural  sciences 
by  a  dozen  girls,  but  in  some  inexplicable  way  she 
became,  as  the  months  went  on,  the  foremost  figure 
in  the  school.  When  she  had  entirely  forgotten  the 
facts  which  would  enable  her  to  answer  a  question 
fully  and  conclusively,  she  commonly  had  some 
original  theory  to  expound ;  it  was  not  always  cor 
rect,  but  it  was  generally  unique  and  sometimes 
amusing.  She  was  only  fair  in  Latin  or  French 


240  REBECCA 

grammar,  but  when  it  came  to  translation,  her  free^ 
dom,  her  choice  of  words,  and  her  sympathetic  un 
derstanding  of  the  spirit  of  the  text  made  her  the 
delight  of  her  teachers  and  the  despair  of  her  rivals. 

"  She  can  be  perfectly   ignorant  of  a  subject/ 
said  Miss  Maxwell  to  Adam  Ladd,  "  but  entirely 
intelligent  the  moment  she  has  a  clue.    Most  of  the 
other  girls  are  full  of  information  and  as  stupid  as 
sheep." 

Rebecca's  gifts  had  not  been  discovered  save  by 
the  few,  during  the  first  year,  when  she  was  adjust 
ing  herself  quietly  to  the  situation.  She  was  dis 
tinctly  one  of  the  poorer  girls  ;  she  had  no  fine 
dresses  to  attract  attention,  no  visitors,  no  friends 
in  the  town.  She  had  more  study  hours,  and  less 
time,  therefore,  for  the  companionship  of  other  girls, 
gladly  as  she  would  have  welcomed  the  gayety  of 
that  side  of  school  life.  Still,  water  will  find  its  own 
level  in  some  way,  and  by  the  spring  of  the  second 
year  she  had  naturally  settled  into  the  same  sort  of 
leadership  which  had  been  hers  in  the  smaller  com 
munity  of  Riverboro.  She  was  unanimously  elected 
assistant  editor  of  the  Wareham  School  Pilot,  being 
the  first  girl  to  assume  that  enviable,  though  some 
what  arduous  and  thankless  position,  and  when  her 
maiden  number  went  to  the  Cobbs,  uncle  Jerry  and 
aunt  Sarah  could  hardly  eat  or  sleep  for  pride. 

"  She  '11  always  get  votes,"  said  Huldah  Meserve, 
when  discussing  the   election,   "for  whether  she 


REBECCA  241 

knows  anything  or  not,  she  looks  as  if  she  did,  and 
whether  she  's  capable  of  filling  an  office  or  not,  she 
looks  as  if  she  was.  I  only  wish  I  was  tall  and  dark 
and  had  the  gift  of  making  people  believe  I  was 
great  things,  like  Rebecca  Randall.  There  's  one 
thing  :  though  the  boys  call  her  handsome,  you 
notice  they  don't  trouble  her  with  much  attention." 

It  was  a  fact  that  Rebecca's  attitude  towards  the 
opposite  sex  was  still  somewhat  indifferent  and  ob 
livious,  even  for  fifteen  and  a  half  !  No  one  could 
look  at  her  and  doubt  that  she  had  potentialities  of 
attraction  latent  within  her  somewhere,  but  that  side 
of  her  nature  was  happily  biding  its  time.  A  human 
being  is  capable  only  of  a  certain  amount  of  activity 
at  a  given  moment,  and  it  will  inevitably  satisfy 
first  its  most  pressing  needs,  its  most  ardent  desires, 
its  chief  ambitions.  Rebecca  was  full  of  small 
anxieties  and  fears,  for  matters  were  not  going  well 
at  the  brick  house  and  were  anything  but  hopeful 
at  the  home  farm.  She  was  overbusy  and  overtaxed, 
and  her  thoughts  were  naturally  drawn  towards  the 
difficult  problems  of  daily  living. 

It  had  seemed  to  her  during  the  autumn  and 
winter  of  that  year  as  if  her  aunt  Miranda  had 
never  been,  save  at  the  very  first,  so  censorious  and 
so  fault-finding.  One  Saturday  Rebecca  ran  up 
stairs  and,  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  exclaimed, 
"  Aunt  Jane,  it  seems  as  if  I  never  could  stand  her 
continual  scoldings.  Nothing  I  can  do  suits  aunt 


242  REBECCA 

Miranda;  she  's  just  said  it  will  take  me  my  whole 
life  to  get  the  Randall  out  of  me,  and  I  'm  not  con 
vinced  that  I  want  it  all  out,  so  there  we  are ! " 

Aunt  Jane,  never  demonstrative,  cried  with  Re 
becca  as  she  attempted  to  soothe  her. 

"  You  must  be  patient,"  she  said,  wiping  first  her 
own  eyes  and  then  Rebecca's.  "  I  have  n't  told  you, 
for  it  is  n't  fair  you  should  be  troubled  when  you  're 
studying  so  hard,  but  your  aunt  Miranda  is  n't  well. 
One  Monday  morning  about  a  month  ago,  she  had 
a  kind  of  faint  spell ;  it  was  n't  bad,  but  the  doctor 
is  afraid  it  was  a  shock,  and  if  so,  it 's  the  beginning 
of  the  end.  Seems  to  me  she 's  failing  right  along, 
and  that 's  what  makes  her  so  fretful  and  easy  vexed. 
She  has  other  troubles  too,  that  you  don't  know 
anything  about,  and  if  you  're  not  kind  to  your  aunt 
Miranda  now,  child,  you  '11  be  dreadful  sorry  some 
time." 

All  the  temper  faded  from  Rebecca's  face,  and 
she  stopped  crying  to  say  penitently,  "  Oh  !  the  poor 
dear  thing !  I  won't  mind  a  bit  what  she  says  now. 
She  's  just  asked  me  for  some  milk  toast  and  I 
was  dreading  to  take  it  to  her,  but  this  will  make 
everything  different.  Don't  worry  yet,  aunt  Jane, 
for  perhaps  it  won't  be  as  bad  as  you  think." 

So  when  she  carried  the  toast  to  her  aunt  a  little 
later,  it  was  in  the  best  gilt-edged  china  bowl,  with 
a  fringed  napkin  on  the  tray  and  a  sprig  of  geranium 
lying  across  the  salt  cellar. 


REBECCA  243 

"Now,  aunt  Miranda,"  she  said  cheerily,  "  I  expect 
you  to  smack  your  lips  and  say  this  is  good  ;  it 's  not 
Randall,  but  Sawyer  milk  toast." 

"  You  've  tried  all  kinds  on  me,  one  time  an* 
another,"  Miranda  answered.  "This  tastes  real 
kind  o'  good  ;  but  I  wish  you  had  n't  wasted  that 
nice  geranium." 

"You  can't  tell  what's  wasted,"  said  Rebecca 
philosophically  ;  "  perhaps  that  geranium  has  been 
hoping  this  long  time  it  could  brighten  somebody's 
supper,  so  don't  disappoint  it  by  making  believe  you 
don't  like  it.  I  've  seen  geraniums  cry,  —  in  the  very 
early  morning  !  " 

The  mysterious  trouble  to  which  Jane  had  alluded 
was  a  very  real  one,  but  it  was  held  in  profound 
secrecy.  Twenty-five  hundred  dollars  of  the  small 
Sawyer  property  had  been  invested  in  the  business 
of  a  friend  of  their  father's,  and  had  returned  them 
a  regular  annual  income  of  a  hundred  dollars.  The 
family  friend  had  been  dead  for  some  five  years, 
but  his  son  had  succeeded  to  his  interests  and  all 
went  on  as  formerly.  Suddenly  there  came  a  letter 
saying  that  the  firm  had  gone  into  bankruptcy, 
that  the  business  had  been  completely  wrecked,  and 
that  the  Sawyer  money  had  been  swept  away  with 
everything  else. 

The  loss  of  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  is  a  very 
trifling  matter,  but  it  made  all  the  difference  between 
comfort  and  self-denial  to  the  two  old  spinsters* 


244  REBECCA 

Their  manner  of  life  had  been  so  rigid  and  careful 
that  it  was  difficult  to  economize  any  further,  and  the 
blow  had  fallen  just  when  it  was  most  inconvenient, 
for  Rebecca's  school  and  boarding  expenses,  small 
as  they  were,  had  to  be  paid  promptly  and  in  cash. 

"  Can  we  possibly  go  on  doing  it  ?  Shan't  we 
have  to  give  up  and  tell  her  why?"  asked  Jane 
tearfully  of  the  elder  sister. 

"  We  have  put  our  hand  to  the  plough,  and  we 
can't  turn  back,"  answered  Miranda  in  her  grim 
mest  tone  ;  "  we  've  taken  her  away  from  her  mother 
and  offered  her  an  education,  and  we  've  got  to  keep 
our  word.  She  's  Aurelia's  only  hope  for  years  to 
come,  to  my  way  o'  thinkin'.  Hannah's  beau  takes 
all  her  time  V  thought,  and  when  she  gits  a  hus 
band  her  mother  '11  be  out  o'  sight  and  out  o'  mind. 
John,  instead  of  farmin',  thinks  he  must  be  a  doc 
tor,  —  as  if  folks  was  n't  gettin'  unhealthy  enough 
these  days,  without  turnin'  out  more  young  doctors 
to  help  'em  into  their  graves.  No,  Jane  ;  we  '11  skimp 
'n'  do  without,  'n'  plan  to  git  along  on  our  interest 
money  somehow,  but  we  won't  break  into  our  prin 
cipal,  whatever  happens." 

"  Breaking  into  the  principal  "  was,  in  the  minds 
of  most  thrifty  New  England  women,  a  sin  only 
second  to  arson,  theft,  or  murder ;  and,  though  the 
rule  was  occasionally  carried  too  far  for  common 
sense,  —  as  in  this  case,  where  two  elderly  women 
of  sixty  might  reasonably  have  drawn  something 


REBECCA  245 

from  their  little  hoard  in  time  of  special  need,  —  it 
doubtless  wrought  more  of  good  than  evil  in  the 
community. 

Rebecca,  who  knew  nothing  of  their  business 
affairs,  merely  saw  her  aunts  grow  more  and  more 
saving,  pinching  here  and  there,  cutting  off  this 
and  that  relentlessly.  Less  meat  and  fish  were 
bought  ;  the  woman  who  had  lately  been  coming 
two  days  a  week  for  washing,  ironing,  and  scrub 
bing  was  dismissed  ;  the  old  bonnets  of  the  season 
before  were  brushed  up  and  retrimmed  ;  there  were 
no  drives  to  Moderation  or  trips  to  Portland.  Econ 
omy  was  carried  to  its  very  extreme  ;  but  though 
Miranda  was  well-nigh  as  gloomy  and  uncompromis 
ing  in  her  manner  and  conversation  as  a  woman  could 
well  be,  she  at  least  never  twitted  her  niece  of  being 
a  burden  ;  so  Rebecca's  share  of  the  Sawyers'  mis 
fortunes  consisted  only  in  wearing  her  old  dresses, 
hats,  and  jackets,  without  any  apparent  hope  of  a 
change. 

There  was,  however,  no  concealing  the  state  of 
things  at  Sunnybrook,  where  chapters  of  accidents 
had  unfolded  themselves  in  a  sort  of  serial  story  that 
had  run  through  the  year.  The  potato  crop  had 
failed  ;  there  were  no  apples  to  speak  of  ;  the  hay 
had  been  poor ;  Aurelia  had  turns  of  dizziness  in 
her  head  ;  Mark  had  broken  his  ankle.  As  this  was 
his  fourth  offense,  Miranda  inquired  how  many 
bones  there  were  in  the  human  body,  '*  so 't  they  'H 


246  REBECCA 

know  when  Mark  got  through  breakin'  'em."  The 
time  for  paying  the  interest  on  the  mortgage,  that 
incubus  that  had  crushed  all  the  joy  out  of  the 
Randall  household,  had  come  and  gone,  and  there 
was  no  possibility,  for  the  first  time  in  fourteen 
years,  of  paying  the  required  forty-eight  dollars. 
The  only  bright  spot  in  the  horizon  was  Hannah's 
engagement  to  Will  Melville, — a  young  farmer 
whose  land  joined  Sunnybrook,  who  had  a  good 
house,  was  alone  in  the  world,  and  his  own  master. 
Hannah  was  so  satisfied  with  her  own  unexpectedly 
radiant  prospects  that  she  hardly  realized  her  mo 
ther's  anxieties  ;  for  there  are  natures  which  flourish 
in  adversity,  and  deteriorate  when  exposed  to  sud 
den  prosperity.  She  had  made  a  visit  of  a  week  at 
the  brick  house  ;  and  Miranda's  impression,  con* 
veyed  in  privacy  to  Jane,  was  that  Hannah  was  close 
as  the  bark  of  a  tree,  and  consid'able  selfish  too ; 
that  when  she  'd  clim'  as  fur  as  she  could  in  the 
world,  she  'd  kick  the  ladder  out  from  under  her, 
everlastin'  quick  ;  that,  on  being  sounded  as  to  her 
ability  to  be  of  use  to  the  younger  children  in  the 
future,  she  said  she  guessed  she  'd  done  her  share 
a'ready,  and  she  wan't  goin*  to  burden  Will  with 
her  poor  relations.  "  She 's  Susan  Randall  through 
and  through  !  "  ejaculated  Miranda.  "  I  was  glad  to 
see  her  face  turned  towards  Temperance.  If  that 
mortgage  is  ever  cleared  from  the  farm,  't  won't  be 
Hannah  that  '11  do  it ;  it  '11  be  Rebecca  or  me  P 


XXIV 
ALADDIN  RUBS  HIS  LAMP 

YOUR  esteemed  contribution  entitled  Ware- 
ham  Wildflowers  has  been  accepted  for 
The  Pilot,  Miss  Perkins,"  said  Rebecca, 
entering  the  room  where  Emma  Jane  was  darning 
the  firm's  stockings.  "  I  stayed  to  tea  with  Miss 
Maxwell,  but  came  home  early  to  tell  you." 

"  You  are  joking,  Becky  !  "  faltered  Emma  Jane, 
looking  up  from  her  work. 

"  Not  a  bit ;  the  senior  editor  read  it  and  thought 
it  highly  instructive;  it  appears  in  the  next  issue." 

"  Not  in  the  same  number  with  your  poem  about 
the  golden  gates  that  close  behind  us  when  we  leave 
school  ?  "  —  and  Emma  Jane  held  her  breath  as  she 
awaited  the  reply. 

"  Even  so,  Miss  Perkins." 

"  Rebecca,"  said  Emma  Jane,  with  the  nearest 
approach  to  tragedy  that  her  nature  would  permit, 
"  I  don't  know  as  I  shall  be  able  to  bear  it,  and  if 
anything  happens  to  me,  I  ask  you  solemnly  to  bury 
that  number  of  The  Pilot  with  me." 

Rebecca  did  not  seem  to  think  this  the  expres 
sion  of  an  exaggerated  state  of  feeling,  inasmuch  as 
she  replied,  "  I  know  ;  that 's  just  the  way  it  seemed 
to  me  at  first,  and  even  now,  whenever  I  'm  alone 


248  REBECCA 

and  take  out  the  Pilot  back  numbers  to  read  over 
my  contributions,  I  almost  burst  with  pleasure  ;  and 
it's  not  that  they  are  good  either,  for  they  look 
worse  to  me  every  time  I  read  them." 

"  If  you  would  only  live  with  me  in  some  little 
house  when  we  get  older,"  mused  Emma  Jane,  as 
with  her  darning  needle  poised  in  air  she  regarded 
the  opposite  wall  dreamily,  "  I  would  do  the  house 
work  and  cooking,  and  copy  all  your  poems  and 
stories,  and  take  them  to  the  post-office,  and  you 
need  n't  do  anything  but  write.  It  would  be  per 
fectly  elergant !  " 

"  I  'd  like  nothing  better,  if  I  had  n't  promised  to 
keep  house  for  John,"  replied  Rebecca. 

"He  won't  have  a  house  for  a  good  many  years, 
will  he?" 

"  No,"  sighed  Rebecca  ruefully,  flinging  herself 
down  by  the  table  and  resting  her  head  on  her  hand. 
"  Not  unless  we  can  contrive  to  pay  off  that  detest 
able  mortage.  The  day  grows  farther  off  instead 
of  nearei  now  that  we  haven't  paid  the  interest 
this  year." 

She  pulled  a  piece  of  paper  towards  her,  and 
scribbling  idly  on  it  read  aloud  in  a  moment  or 
two  : — • 

"  Will  you  pay  a  little  faster  ?"  said  the  mortgage  to  the  farm ; 

"  I  confess  I  'm  very  tired  of  this  place." 
"  The  weariness  is  mutual,"  Rebecca  Randall  cried ; 

"  I  would  I  'd  never  gazed  upon  your  face  I  " 


REBECCA  249 

"  A  note  has  a  '  face,'  "  observed  Emma  Jane,  who 
was  gifted  in  arithmetic.  "  I  did  n't  know  that  a 
mortgage  had." 

"  Our  mortgage  has,"  said  Rebecca  revengefully. 
"  I  should  know  him  if  I  met  him  in  the  dark.  Wait 
and  I  '11  draw  him  for  you.  It  will  be  good  for  you 
to  know  how  he  looks,  and  then  when  you  have  a 
husband  and  seven  children,  you  won't  allow  him  to 
come  anywhere  within  a  mile  of  your  farm." 

The  sketch  when  completed  was  of  a  sort  to  be 
shunned  by  a  timid  person  on  the  verge  of  slumber. 
There  was  a  tiny  house  on  the  right,  and  a  weeping 
family  gathered  in  front  of  it.  The  mortgage  was 
depicted  as  a  cross  between  a  fiend  and  an  ogre, 
and  held  an  axe  uplifted  in  his  red  right  hand.  A 
figure  with  streaming  black  locks  was  staying  the 
blow,  and  this,  Rebecca  explained  complacently,  was 
intended  as  a  likeness  of  herself,  though  she  was 
rather  vague  as  to  the  method  she  should  use  in 
attaining  her  end. 

"He's  terrible,"  said  Emma  Jane,  "but  awfully 
wizened  and  small." 

"  It 's  only  a  twelve  hundred  dollar  mortgage," 
said  Rebecca,  "  and  that 's  called  a  small  one.  John 
saw  a  man  once  that  was  mortgaged  for  twelve 
thousand." 

"  Shall  you  be  a  writer  or  an  editor  ? "  asked 
Emma  Jane  presently,  as  if  one  had  only  to  choose 
and  the  tiling  were  d*ne. 


250  REBECCA 

"I  shall  have  to  do  what  turns  up  first,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Why  not  go  out  as  a  missionary  to  Syria,  as  the 
Burches  are  always  coaxing  you  to?  The  Board 
would  pay  your  expenses." 

"  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  be  a  missionary," 
Rebecca  answered.  "  I  'm  not  good  enough  in  the 
first  place,  and  I  don't  'feel  a  call/  as  Mr.  Burch 
says  you  must.  I  would  like  to  do  something  for 
somebody  and  make  things  move,  somewhere,  but 
I  don't  want  to  go  thousands  of  miles  away  teaching 
people  how  to  live  when  I  have  n't  learned  myself. 
It  is  n't  as  if  the  heathen  really  needed  me  ;  I  'm 
sure  they'll  come  out  all  right  in  the  end." 

"  I  can't  see  how ;  if  all  the  people  who  ought  to 
go  out  to  save  them  stay  at  home  as  we  do,"  argued 
Emma  Jane. 

"Why,  whatever  God  is,  and  wherever  He  is, 
He  must  always  be  there,  ready  and  waiting.  He 
can't  move  about  and  miss  people.  It  may  take 
the  heathen  a  little  longer  to  find  Him,  but  God 
will  make  allowances,  of  course.  He  knows  if  they 
live  in  such  hot  climates  it  must  make  them  lazy 
and  slow ;  and  the  parrots  and  tigers  and  snakes 
and  bread-fruit  trees  distract  their  minds  ;  and 
having  no  books,  they  can't  think  as  well ;  but 
they  '11  find  God  somehow,  some  time." 

"What  if  they  die  first  ? "  asked  Emma  Jane. 

"  Oh,  well,  they  can't  be  blamed  for  that ;  they 


REBECCA  251 

don't  die  on  purpose,"  said  Rebecca,  with  a  com 
fortable  theology. 

In  these  days  Adam  Ladd  sometimes  went  to 
Temperance  on  business  connected  with  the  pro 
posed  branch  of  the  railroad  familiarly  known 
as  the  "  York  and  Yank  'em/'  and  while  there  he 
gained  an  inkling  of  Sunnybrook  affairs.  The  build 
ing  of  the  new  road  was  not  yet  a  certainty,  and 
there  was  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  best 
route  from  Temperance  to  Plumville.  In  one  event 
the  way  would  lead  directly  through  Sunnybrook, 
from  corner  to  corner,  and  Mrs.  Randall  would  be 
compensated  ;  in  the  other,  her  interests  would  not 
be  affected  either  for  good  or  ill,  save  as  all  land  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  might  rise  a  little  in 
value. 

Coming  from  Temperance  to  Wareham  one  day, 
Adam  had  a  long  walk  and  talk  with  Rebecca, 
whom  he  thought  looking  pale  and  thin,  though 
she  was  holding  bravely  to  her  self-imposed  hours 
of  work.  She  was  wearing  a  black  cashmere  dress 
that  had  been  her  aunt  Jane's  second  best.  We  are 
familiar  with  the  heroine  of  romance  whose  foot  is 
so  exquisitely  shaped  that  the  coarsest  shoe  cannot 
conceal  its  perfections,  and  one  always  cherishes  a 
doubt  of  the  statement ;  yet  it  is  true  that  Rebec 
ca's  peculiar  and  individual  charm  seemed  wholly 
independent  of  accessories.  The  lines  of  her  fig- 


252  REBECCA 

ure,  the  rare  coloring  of  skin  and  hair  and  eyes, 
triumphed  over  shabby  clothing,  though,  had  the 
advantage  of  artistic  apparel  been  given  her,  the 
little  world  of  Wareham  would  probably  at  once 
have  dubbed  her  a  beauty.  The  long  black  braids 
were  now  disposed  after  a  quaint  fashion  of  her 
own.  They  were  crossed  behind,  carried  up  to  the 
front,  and  crossed  again,  the  tapering  ends  finally 
brought  down  and  hidden  in  the  thicker  part  at  the 
neck.  Then  a  purely  feminine  touch  was  given  to 
the  hair  that  waved  back  from  the  face,  —  a  touch 
that  rescued  little  crests  and  wavelets  from  bondage 
and  set  them  free  to  take  a  new  color  in  the  sun. 

Adam  Ladd  looked  at  her  in  a  way  that  made 
her  put  her  hands  over  her  face  and  laugh  through 
them  shyly  as  she  said  :  "  I  know  what  you  are 
thinking,  Mr.  Aladdin,  —  that  my  dress  is  an  inch 
longer  than  last  year,  and  my  hair  different ;  but 
I  'm  not  nearly  a  young  lady  yet  ;  truly  I  'm  not. 
Sixteen  is  a  month  off  still,  and  you  promised  not 
to  give  me  up  till  my  dress  trails.  If  you  don't  like 
me  to  grow  old,  why  don't  you  grow  young  ?  Then 
we  can  meet  in  the  halfway  house  and  have  nice 
times.  Now  that  I  think  about  it,"  she  continued, 
"that's  just  what  you've  been  doing  all  along. 
When  you  bought  the  soap,  I  thought  you  were 
grandfather  Sawyer's  age  ;  when  you  danced  with 
me  at  the  flag-raising,  you  seemed  like  my  father  ; 
but  when  you  showed  me  your  mother's  picture,  I 


REBECCA  253 

felt  as  if  you  were  my  John,  because  I  was  so  sorry 
for  you." 

"  That  will  do  very  well,"  smiled  Adam  ;  "  unless 
you  go  so  swiftly  that  you  become  my  grandmother 
before  I  really  need  one.  You  are  studying  too 
hard,  Miss  Rebecca  Rowena !  " 

"Just  a  little,"  she  confessed.  "But  vacation 
comes  soon,  you  know." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  have  a  good  rest  and  try 
to  recover  your  dimples  ?  They  are  really  worth 
preserving." 

A  shadow  crept  over  Rebecca's  face  and  her  eyes 
suffused.  "  Don't  be  kind,  Mr.  Aladdin,  I  can't  bear 
it ;  —  it 's  —  it 's  not  one  of  my  dimply  days  !  "  and 
she  ran  in  at  the  seminary  gate,  and  disappeared 
with  a  farewell  wave  of  her  hand. 

Adam  Ladd  wended  his  way  to  the  principal's 
office  in  a  thoughtful  mood.  He  had  come  to  Ware- 
ham  to  unfold  a  plan  that  he  had  been  considering 
for  several  days.  This  year  was  the  fiftieth  anni 
versary  of  the  founding  of  the  Wareham  schools, 
and  he  meant  to  tell  Mr.  Morrison  that  in  addition 
to  his  gift  of  a  hundred  volumes  to  the  reference 
library,  he  intended  to  celebrate  it  by  offering  prizes 
in  English  composition,  a  subject  in  which  he  was 
much  interested.  He  wished  the  boys  and  girls  of 
the  two  upper  classes  to  compete ;  the  award  to  be 
made  to  the  writers  of  the  two  best  essays.  As  to 
the  nature  of  the  prizes  he  had  not  quite  made  up 


254  REBECCA 

his  mind,  but  they  would  be  substantial  ones,  either 
of  money  or  of  books. 

This  interview  accomplished,  he  called  upon  Miss 
Maxwell,  thinking  as  he  took  the  path  through  the 
woods,  "  Rose- Red-Snow- White  needs  the  help,  and 
since  there  is  no  way  of  my  giving  it  to  her  without 
causing  remark,  she  must  earn  it,  poor  little  soul ! 
I  wonder  if  my  money  is  always  to  be  useless  where 
most  I  wish  to  spend  it !  " 

He  had  scarcely  greeted  his  hostess  when  he 
said  :  "  Miss  Maxwell,  does  n't  it  strike  you  that 
our  friend  Rebecca  looks  wretchedly  tired  ?  " 

"  She  does  indeed,  and  I  am  considering  whether 
I  can  take  her  away  with  me.  I  always  go  South 
for  the  spring  vacation,  traveling  by  sea  to  Old 
Point  Comfort,  and  rusticating  in  some  quiet  spot 
near  by.  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  have 
Rebecca  for  a  companion." 

"  The  very  thing  !  "  assented  Adam  heartily ; 
"  but  why  should  you  take  the  whole  responsibility  ? 
Why  not  let  me  help  ?  I  am  greatly  interested  in 
the  child,  and  have  been  for  some  years." 

"  You  need  n't  pretend  you  discovered  her,"  in 
terrupted  Miss  Maxwell  warmly,  "  for  I  did  that 
myself." 

"  She  was  an  intimate  friend  of  mine  long  before 
you  ever  came  to  Wareham,"  laughed  Adam,  and 
he  told  Miss  Maxwell  the  circumstances  of  his  first 
meeting  with  Rebecca.  "  From  the  beginning  I  've 


REBECCA  255 

tried  to  think  of  a  way  I  could  be  useful  in  her 
development,  but  no  reasonable  solution  seemed  to 
offer  itself." 

"  Luckily  she  attends  to  her  own  development," 
answered  Miss  Maxwell.  "  In  a  sense  she  is  inde 
pendent  of  everything  and  everybody  ;  she  follows 
her  saint  without  being  conscious  of  it.  But  she 
needs  a  hundred  practical  things  that  money  would 
buy  for  her,  and  alas  !  I  have  a  slender  purse." 

"  Take  mine,  I  beg,  and  let  me  act  through  you/' 
pleaded  Adam.  "  I  could  not  bear  to  see  even  a 
young  tree  trying  its  best  to  grow  without  light  or 
air,  —  how  much  less  a  gifted  child  !  I  interviewed 
her  aunts  a  year  ago,  hoping  I  might  be  permitted 
to  give  her  a  musical  education.  I  assured  them  it 
was  a  most  ordinary  occurrence,  and  that  I  was  will 
ing  to  be  repaid  later  on  if  they  insisted,  but  it  was 
no  use.  The  elder  Miss  Sawyer  remarked  that  no 
member  of  her  family  ever  had  lived  on  charity, 
and  she  guessed  they  would  n't  begin  at  this  late 
day." 

"  I  rather  like  that  uncompromising  New  Eng 
land  grit,"  exclaimed  Miss  Maxwell,  "  and  so  far,  I 
don't  regret  one  burden  that  Rebecca  has  borne  or 
one  sorrow  that  she  has  shared.  Necessity  has  only 
made  her  brave  ;  poverty  has  only  made  her  daring 
and  self-reliant.  As  to  her  present  needs,  there 
are  certain  things  only  a  woman  ought  to  do  for  a 
girl,  and  I  should  not  like  to  have  you  do  them  for 


256  REBECCA 

Rebecca ;  I  should  feel  that  I  was  wounding  her 
pride  and  self-respect,  even  though  she  were  igno 
rant  ;  but  there  is  no  reason  why  I  may  not  do  them 
if  necessary  and  let  you  pay  her  traveling  expenses. 
I  would  accept  those  for  her  without  the  slightest 
embarrassment,  but  I  agree  that  the  matter  would 
better  be  kept  private  between  us." 

"You  are  a  real  fairy  godmother!"  exclaimed 
Adam,  shaking  her  hand  warmly.  "  Would  it  be 
less  trouble  for  you  to  invite  her  room-mate  too, — 
the  pink-and-white  inseparable  ? " 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  prefer  to  have  Rebecca  all  to 
myself,"  said  Miss  Maxwell. 

"I  can  understand  that,"  replied  Adam  absent- 
mindedly  ;  "  I  mean,  of  course,  that  one  child  is  less 
trouble  than  two.  There  she  is  now." 

Here  Rebecca  appeared  in  sight,  walking  down 
the  quiet  street  with  a  lad  of  sixteen.  They  were  in 
animated  conversation,  and  were  apparently  reading 
something  aloud  to  each  other,  for  the  black  head 
and  the  curly  brown  one  were  both  bent  over  a  sheet 
of  letter  paper.  Rebecca  kept  glancing  up  at  her 
companion,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  appreciation. 

"Miss  Maxwell,"  said  Adam,  "I  am  a  trustee  of 
this  institution,  but  upon  my  word  I  don't  believe  in 
coeducation ! " 

"  I  have  my  own  occasional  hours  of  doubt,"  she 
answered,  "  but  surely  its  disadvantages  are  reduced 
to  a  minimum  with  —  children  !  That  is  a  very  im- 


REBECCA  257 

pressive  sight  which  you  are  privileged  to  witness, 
Mr.  Ladd.  The  folk  in  Cambridge  often  gloated 
on  the  spectacle  of  Longfellow  and  Lowell  arm  in 
arm.  The  little  school  world  of  Wareham  palpi 
tates  with  excitement  when  it  sees  the  senior  and 
the  junior  editors  of  The  Pilot  walking  together  1 " 


XXV 

ROSES   OF  JOY 

THE  day  before  Rebecca  started  for  the 
South  with  Miss  Maxwell  she  was  in  the 
library  with  Emma  Jane  and  Huldah,  con 
sulting  dictionaries  and  encyclopaedias.  As  they 
were  leaving  they  passed  the  locked  cases  contain 
ing  the  library  of  fiction,  open  to  the  teachers  and 
townspeople,  but  forbidden  to  the  students. 

They  looked  longingly  through  the  glass,  getting 
some  little  comfort  from  the  titles  of  the  volumes, 
as  hungry  children  imbibe  emotional  nourishment 
from  the  pies  and  tarts  inside  a  confectioner's  win 
dow.  Rebecca's  eyes  fell  upon  a  new  book  in  the 
corner,  and  she  read  the  name  aloud  with  delight  : 
"  The  Rose  of  Joy.  Listen,  girls  ;  is  n't  that  lovely  ? 
The  Rose  of  Joy.  It  looks  beautiful,  and  it  sounds 
beautiful.  What  does  it  mean,  I  wonder  ? " 

"I  guess  everybody  has  a  different  rose,"  said 
Huldah  shrewdly.  "  I  know  what  mine  would  be, 
and  I  'm  not  ashamed  to  own  it.  I  'd  like  a  year 
in  a  city,  with  just  as  much  money  as  I  wanted 
to  spend,  horses  and  splendid  clothes  and  amuse 
ments  every  minute  of  the  day  ;  and  I  'd  like  above 
everything  to  live  with  people  that  wear  low 
necks."  (Poor  Huldah  never  took  off  her  dress  with- 


REBECCA  259 

out  bewailing  the  fact  that  her  lot  was  cast  in 
Riverboro,  where  her  pretty  white  shoulders  could 
never  be  seen.) 

"  That  would  be  fun,  for  a  while  anyway,"  Emma 
Jane  remarked.  "  But  would  n't  that  be  pleasure 
more  than  joy  ?  Oh,  I  've  got  an  idea  !  " 

"  Don't  shriek  so  !  "  said  the  startled  Huldah. 
"  I  thought  it  was  a  mouse." 

"  I  don't  have  them  very  often,"  apologized  Emma 
Jane,  — "  ideas,  I  mean  ;  this  one  shook  me  like 
a  stroke  of  lightning.  Rebecca,  could  n't  it  be  suc 
cess  ?" 

"  That 's  good,"  mused  Rebecca  ;  "  I  can  see  that 
success  would  be  a  joy,  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  me 
like  a  rose,  somehow.  I  was  wondering  if  it  could 
be  love  ? " 

"  I  wish  we  could  have  a  peep  at  the  book !  It 
must  be  perfectly  elergant ! "  said  Emma  Jane. 
"  But  now  you  say  it  is  love,  I  think  that 's  the  best 
guess  yet" 

All  day  long  the  four  words  haunted  and  pos 
sessed  Rebecca  ;  she  said  them  over  to  herself  con 
tinually.  Even  the  prosaic  Emma  Jane  was  affected 
by  them,  for  in  the  evening  she  said,  "  I  don't  ex 
pect  you  to  believe  it,  but  I  have  another  idea, — 
that 's  two  in  one  day ;  I  had  it  while  I  was  putting 
cologne  on  your  head.  The  rose  of  joy  might  be 
helpfulness." 

"  If  it  is,  then  it  is  always  blooming  in  your  dear 


260  REBECCA 

little  heart,  you  darlingest,  kind  Emmie,  taking 
such  good  care  of  your  troublesome  Becky !  " 

"  Don't  dare  to  call  yourself  troublesome  !  You  're 
—  you  're  —  you  're  my  rose  of  joy,  that 's  what  you 
are  !  "  And  the  two  girls  hugged  each  other  affec 
tionately. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Rebecca  touched 
Emma  Jane  on  the  shoulder  softly.  "  Are  you  very 
fast  asleep,  Emmie  ? "  she  whispered. 

"  Not  so  very,"  answered  Emma  Jane  drowsily. 

"  I  've  thought  of  something  new.  If  you  sang  or 
painted  or  wrote,  —  not  a  little,  but  beautifully,  you 
know,  — would  n't  the  doing  of  it,  just  as  much  as 
you  wanted,  give  you  the  rose  of  joy  ? " 

"  It  might  if  it  was  a  real  talent,"  answered  Emma 
Jane,  "  though  I  don't  like  it  so  well  as  love.  If  you 
have  another  thought,  Becky,  keep  it  till  morning." 

"  I  did  have  one  more  inspiration,"  said  Rebecca 
when  they  were  dressing  next  morning,  "  but  I 
did  n't  wake  you.  I  wondered  if  the  rose  of  joy 
could  be  sacrifice  ?  But  I  think  sacrifice  would  be 
a  lily,  not  a  rose;  don't  you  ? " 

The  journey  southward,  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
ocean,  the  strange  new  scenes,  the  ease  and  deli 
cious  freedom,  the  intimacy  with  Miss  Maxwell, 
almost  intoxicated  Rebecca.  In  three  days  she  was 
not  only  herself  again,  she  was  another  self,  thrill 
ing  with  delight,  anticipation,  and  realization.  She 


REBECCA  261 

had  always  had  such  eager  hunger  for  knowl  -dge, 
such  thirst  for  love,  such  passionate  longing  for  the 
music,  the  beauty,  the  poetry  of  existence !  She 
had  always  been  straining  to  make  the  outward 
world  conform  to  her  inward  dreams,  and  now  life 
had  grown  all  at  once  rich  and  sweet,  wide  and  full 
She  was  using  all  her  natural,  God-given  outlets ; 
and  Emily  Maxwell  marveled  daily  at  the  inexhaust 
ible  way  in  which  the  girl  poured  out  and  gathered 
in  the  treasures  of  thought  and  experience  that 
belonged  to  her.  She  was  a  lifegiver,  altering  the 
whole  scheme  of  any  picture  she  made  a  part  of, 
by  contributing  new  values.  Have  you  never  seen 
the  dull  blues  and  greens  of  a  room  changed,  trans 
figured  by  a  burst  of  sunshine  ?  That  seemed  to 
Miss  Maxwell  the  effect  of  Rebecca  on  the  groups  of 
people  with  whom  they  now  and  then  mingled  ;  but 
they  were  commonly  alone,  reading  to  each  other 
and  having  quiet  talks.  The  prize  essay  was  very 
much  on  Rebecca's  mind.  Secretly  she  thought 
she  could  never  be  happy  unless  she  won  it.  She 
cared  nothing  for  the  value  of  it,  and  in  this  case 
almost  nothing  for  the  honor  ;  she  wanted  to  please 
Mr.  Aladdin  and  justify  his  belief  in  her. 

"  If  I  ever  succeed  in  choosing  a  subject,  I  must 
ask  if  you  think  I  can  write  well  on  it ;  and  then 
I  suppose  I  must  work  in  silence  and  secret,  never 
even  reading  the  essay  to  you,  nor  talking  about  it." 

Miss  Maxwell  and  Rebecca  were  sitting  by  a  little 


$62  REBECCA 

broo1 :  on  a  sunny  spring  day.  They  had  been  in  a 
stretch  of  wood  by  the  sea  since  breakfast,  going 
every  now  and  then  for  a  bask  on  the  warm  white 
sand,  and  returning  to  their  shady  solitude  when 
tired  of  the  sun's  glare. 

"  The  subject  is  very  important,"  said  Miss  Max 
well,  "  but  I  do  not  dare  choose  for  you.  Have  you 
decided  on  anything  yet  ?  " 

"No,"  Rebecca  answered;  "I  plan  a  new  essay 
every  night.  I  Ve  begun  one  on  What  is  Failure  ? 
and  another  on  He  and  She.  That  would  be  a 
dialogue  between  a  boy  and  girl  just  as  they  were 
leaving  school,  and  would  tell  their  ideals  of  life. 
Then  do  you  remember  you  said  to  me  one  day, 
1  Follow  your  Saint '  ?  I  'd  love  to  write  about  that. 
I  did  n't  have  a  single  thought  in  Wareham,  and 
now  I  have  a  new  one  every  minute,  so  I  must  try 
and  write  the  essay  here  ;  think  it  out,  at  any  rate, 
while  I  am  so  happy  and  free  and  rested.  Look  at 
the  pebbles  in  the  bottom  of  the  pool,  Miss  Emily, 
so  round  and  smooth  and  shining." 

"  Yes,  but  where  did  they  get  that  beautiful  pol 
ish,  that  satin  skin,  that  lovely  shape,  Rebecca? 
Not  in  the  still  pool  lying  on  the  sands.  It  was 
never  there  that  their  angles  were  rubbed  off  and 
their  rough  surfaces  polished,  but  in  the  strife  and 
warfare  of  running  waters.  They  have  jostled 
against  other  pebbles,  dashed  against  sharp  rocks, 
and  now  we  look  at  them  and  call  them  beautiful." 


REBECCA  263 

"  If  Fate  had  not  made  somebody  a  teacher, 
She  might  have  been,  oh  I  such  a  splendid  preacher  1 " 

rhymed  Rebecca.  "  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  think  and 
speak  as  you  do  !  "  she  sighed.  "  I  am  so  afraid  I 
shall  never  get  education  enough  to  make  a  good 
writer." 

"You  could  worry  about  plenty  of  other  things 
to  better  advantage,"  said  Miss  Maxwell,  a  little 
scornfully.  "  Be  afraid,  for  instance,  that  you  won't 
understand  human  nature  ;  that  you  won't  realize 
the  beauty  of  the  outer  world  ;  that  you  may  lack 
sympathy,  and  thus  never  be  able  to  read  a  heart ; 
that  your  faculty  of  expression  may  not  keep  pace 
with  your  ideas,  —  a  thousand  things,  every  one  of 
them  more  important  to  the  writer  than  the  know 
ledge  that  is  found  in  books.  y£sop  was  a  Greek 
slave  who  could  not  even  write  down  his  wonderful 
fables  ;  yet  all  the  world  reads  them." 

"I  did  n't  know  that,"  said  Rebecca,  with  a  half 
sob.  "  I  did  n't  know  anything  until  I  met  you  ! " 

"  You  will  only  have  had  a  high  school  course,  but 
the  most  famous  universities  do  not  always  succeed 
in  making  men  and  women.  When  I  long  to  go 
abroad  and  study,  I  always  remember  that  there 
were  three  great  schools  in  Athens  and  two  in  Jeru 
salem,  but  the  Teacher  of  all  teachers  came  out  of 
Nazareth,  a  little  village  hidden  away  from  the  big 
ger,  busier  world." 

"Mr.  Ladd  says  that  you  are  almost  wasted  on 
Wareham,"  said  Rebecca  thoughtfully. 


264  REBECCA 

"  He  is  wrong ;  my  talent  is  not  a  great  one,  but 
no  talent  is  wholly  wasted  unless  its  owner  chooses 
to  hide  it  in  a  napkin.  Remember  that  of  your  own 
gifts,  Rebecca  ;  they  may  not  be  praised  of  men,  but 
they  may  cheer,  console,  inspire,  perhaps,  when  and 
where  you  least  expect.  The  brimming  glass  that 
overflows  its  own  rim  moistens  the  earth  about  it." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  The  Rose  of  Joy  ?"  asked 
Rebecca,  after  a  long  silence. 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  where  did  you  see  it  ?  " 

"  On  the  outside  of  a  book  in  the  library." 

"  I  saw  it  on  the  inside  of  a  book  in  the  library," 
smiled  Miss  Maxwell.  "It  is  from  Emerson,  but 
I  'm  afraid  you  have  n't  quite  grown  up  to  it,  Re 
becca,  and  it  is  one  of  the  things  impossible  to 
explain." 

"Oh,  try  me,  dear  Miss  Maxwell !"  pleaded  Re 
becca.  "  Perhaps  by  thinking  hard  I  can  guess  a 
little  bit  what  it  means." 

"'In  the  actual — this  painful  kingdom  of  time 
and  chance  —  are  Care,  Canker,  and  Sorrow;  with 
thought,  with  the  Ideal,  is  immortal  hilarity  —  the 
rose  of  Joy ;  round  it  all  the  Muses  sr.g,'  "  qroted 
Miss  Maxwell. 

Rebecca  repeated  it  over  and  over  agam  until  she 
had  learned  it  by  heart ;  then  she  said,  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  conceited,  but  I  almost  believe  I  do  un 
derstand  it,  Miss  Maxwell.  Not  altogether,  perhaps, 
because  it  is  puzzling  and  difficult;  but  a  little, 


REBECCA  265 

enough  to  go  on  with.  It 's  as  if  a  splendid  shape 
galloped  past  you  on  horseback ;  you  are  so  sur 
prised  and  your  eyes  move  so  slowly  you  cannot 
half  see  it,  but  you  just  catch  a  glimpse  as  it  whisks 
by,  and  you  know  it  is  beautiful.  It 's  all  settled. 
My  essay  is  going  to  be  called  The  Rose  of  Joy. 
I  Ve  just  decided.  It  has  n't  any  beginning,  nor  any 
middle,  but  there  will  be  a  thrilling  ending,  some 
thing  like  this :  let  me  see ;  joy,  boy,  toy,  ahoy,  de 
coy,  alloy :  — 

Then  come  what  will  of  weal  or  woe 

(Since  all  gold  hath  alloy), 
Thou  It  bloom  unwithered  in  this  heart, 

My  Rose  of  Joy  ! 

Now  I  'm  going  to  tuck  you  up  in  the  shawl  and 
give  you  the  fir  pillow,  and  while  you  sleep  I  am 
going  down  on  the  shore  and  write  a  fairy  story  for 
you.  It  's  one  of  our  '  supposing  '  kind ;  it  flies  far, 
far  into  the  future,  and  makes  beautiful  things  hap 
pen  that  may  never  really  all  come  to  pass ;  but 
some  of  them  will,  — you  '11  see  !  and  then  you  '11 
take  out  the  little  fairy  story  from  your  desk  and 
remember  Rebecca." 

"  I  wonder  why  these  young  things  always  choose 
subjects  that  would  tax  the  powers  of  a  great  essay 
ist!"  thought  Miss  Maxwell,  as  she  tried  to  sleep. 
"  Are  they  dazzled,  captivated,  taken  possession  of, 
by  the  splendor  of  the  theme,  and  do  they  fancy 
they  can  write  up  to  it  ?  Poor  little  innocents,  hitch- 


266  REBECCA 

ing  their  toy  wagons  to  the  stars !  How  pretty  this 
particular  innocent  looks  under  her  new  sunshade!  " 
Adam  Ladd  had  been  driving  through  Boston 
streets  on  a  cold  spring  day  when  nature  and  the 
fashion-mongers  were  holding  out  promises  which 
seemed  far  from  performance.  Suddenly  his  vision 
was  assailed  by  the  sight  of  a  rose-colored  parasol 
gayly  unfurled  in  a  shop  window,  signaling  the 
passer-by  and  setting  him  to  dream  of  summer  sun 
shine.  It  reminded  Adam  of  a  New  England  apple- 
tree  in  full  bloom,  the  outer  covering  of  deep  pink 
shining  through  the  thin  white  lining,  and  a  fluffy, 
fringe-like  edge  of  mingled  rose  and  cream  dropping 
over  the  green  handle.  All  at  once  he  remembered 
one  of  Rebecca's  early  confidences,  —  the  little  pink 
sunshade  that  had  given  her  the  only  peep  into  the 
gay  world  of  fashion  that  her  childhood  had  ever 
known  ;  her  adoration  of  the  flimsy  bit  of  finery  and 
its  tragic  and  sacrificial  end.  He  entered  the  shop, 
bought  the  extravagant  bauble,  and  expressed  it  to 
Wareham  at  once,  not  a  single  doubt  of  its  appro 
priateness  crossing  the  darkness  of  his  masculine 
mind.  He  thought  only  of  the  joy  in  Rebecca's 
eyes  ;  of  the  poise  of  her  head  under  the  apple-blos 
som  canopy.  It  was  a  trifle  embarrassing  to  return 
an  hour  later  and  buy  a  blue  parasol  for  Emma  Jane 
Perkins,  but  it  seemed  increasingly  difficult,  as  the 
years  went  on,  to  remember  her  existence  at  al) 
the  proper  times  and  seasons. 


REBECCA  267 

This  is  Rebecca's  fairy  story,  copied  the  next  day 
and  given  to  Emily  Maxwell  just  as  she  was  going  to 
her  room  for  the  night.  She  read  it  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  and  then  sent  it  to  Adam  Ladd,  thinking  he  had 
earned  a  share  in  it,  and  that  he  deserved  a  glimpse 
of  the  girl's  budding  imagination,  as  well  as  of  her 
grateful  young  heart. 

A  FAIRY  STORY 

There  was  once  a  tired  and  rather  poverty- 
stricken  Princess  who  dwelt  in  a  cottage  on  the 
great  highway  between  two  cities.  She  was  not  as 
unhappy  as  thousands  of  others  ;  indeed,  she  had 
much  to  be  grateful  for,  but  the  life  she  lived  and 
the  work  she  did  were  full  hard  for  one  who  was 
fashioned  slenderly. 

Now  the  cottage  stood  by  the  edge  of  a  great 
green  forest  where  the  wind  was  always  singing 
in  the  branches  and  the  sunshine  filtering  through 
the  leaves. 

And  one  day  when  the  Princess  was  sitting  by  the 
wayside  quite  spent  by  her  labor  in  the  fields,  she 
saw  a  golden  chariot  rolling  down  the  King's  High 
way,  and  in  it  a  person  who  could  be  none  other  than 
somebody's  Fairy  Godmother  on  her  way  to  the 
Court.  The  chariot  halted  at  her  door,  and  though 
the  Princess  had  read  of  such  beneficent  personages, 
she  never  dreamed  for  an  instant  that  one  of  them 
could  ever  alight  at  her  cottage. 


268  REBECCA 

"  If  you  are  tired,  poor  little  Princess,  why  do  you 
not  go  into  the  cool  green  forest  and  rest  ? "  asked 
the  Fairy  Godmother. 

"  Because  I  have  no  time,"  she  answered.  "  I 
must  go  back  to  my  plough." 

"  Is  that  your  plough  leaning  by  the  tree,  and  is 
it  not  too  heavy  ? " 

"  It  is  heavy,"  answered  the  Princess,  "  but  I  love 
to  turn  the  hard  earth  into  soft  furrows  and  know 
that  I  am  making  good  soil  wherein  my  seeds  may 
grow.  When  I  feel  the  weight  too  much,  I  try  to 
think  of  the  harvest." 

The  golden  chariot  passed  on,  and  the  two  talked 
no  more  together  that  day  ;  nevertheless  the  King's 
messengers  were  busy,  for  they  whispered  one  word 
into  the  ear  of  the  Fairy  Godmother  and  another 
into  the  ear  of  the  Princess,  though  so  faintly  that 
neither  of  them  realized  that  the  King  had  spoken. 

The  iiext  morning  a  strong  man  knocked  at  the 
cottage  door,  and  doffing  his  hat  to  the  Princess 
said  :  "  A  golden  chariot  passed  me  yesterday,  and 
one  within  it  flung  me  a  purse  of  ducats,  saying  : 
*  Go  out  into  the  King's  Highway  and  search  until 
you  find  a  cottage  and  a  heavy  plough  leaning  against 
a  tree  near  by.  Enter  and  say  to  the  Princess  whom 
you  will  find  there  :  "  I  will  guide  the  plough  and 
you  must  go  and  rest,  or  walk  in  the  cool  green 
forest ;  for  this  is  the  command  of  your  Fairy  God 
mother."  '  " 


REBECCA  269 

And  the  same  thing  happened  every  day,  and 
every  day  the  tired  Princess  walked  in  the  green 
wood.  Many  times  she  caught  the  glitter  of  the 
chariot  and  ran  into  the  Highway  to  give  thanks 
to  the  Fairy  Godmother;  but  she  was  never  fleet 
enough  to  reach  the  spot.  She  could  only  stand 
with  eager  eyes  and  longing  heart  as  the  chariot 
passed  by.  Yet  she  never  failed  to  catch  a  smile, 
and  sometimes  a  word  or  two  floated  back  to  her, 
words  that  sounded  like :  "  I  would  not  be  thanked. 
We  are  all  children  of  the  same  King,  and  I  am  only 
his  messenger." 

Now  as  the  Princess  walked  daily  in  the  green 
forest,  hearing  the  wind  singing  in  the  branches  and 
seeing  the  sunlight  filter  through  the  lattice-work  of 
green  leaves,  there  came  unto  her  thoughts  that  had 
lain  asleep  in  the  stifling  air  of  the*  cottage  and  the 
weariness  of  guiding  the  plough.  And  by  and  by 
she  took  a  needle  from  her  girdle  and  pricked  the 
thoughts  on  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  sent  them 
into  the  air  to  float  hither  and  thither.  And  it  came 
to  pass  that  people  began  to  pick  them  up,  and  hold 
ing  them  against  the  sun,  to  read  what  was  written 
on  them,  and  this  was  because  the  simple  little 
words  on  the  leaves  were  only,  after  all,  a  part  of 
one  of  the  King's  messages,  such  as  the  Fairy  God 
mother  dropped  continually  from  her  golden  chariot. 

But  the  miracle  of  the  story  lies  deeper  than  all 
this. 


REBECCA 

Whenever  the  Princess  pricked  the  words  upon 
the  leaves  she  added  a  thought  of  her  Fairy  God 
mother,  and  folding  it  close  within,  sent  the  leaf  out 
on  the  breeze  to  float  hither  and  thither  and  fall 
where  it  would.  And  many  other  little  Princesses 
felt  the  same  impulse  and  did  the  same  thing.  And 
as  nothing  is  ever  lost  in  the  King's  Dominion,  so 
these  thoughts  and  wishes  and  hopes,  being  full 
of  love  and  gratitude,  had  no  power  to  die,  but  took 
unto  themselves  other  shapes  and  lived  on  forever. 
They  cannot  be  seen,  our  vision  is  too  weak  ;  nor 
heard,  our  hearing  is  too  dull ;  but  they  can  some 
times  be  felt,  and  we  know  not  what  force  is  stir 
ring  our  hearts  to  nobler  aims. 

The  end  of  the  story  is  not  come,  but  it  may  be 
that  some  day  when  the  Fairy  Godmother  has  a  mes 
sage  to  deliver  in  person  straight  to  the  King,  he  will 
say  :  "  Your  face  I  know  ;  your  voice,  your  thoughts, 
and  your  heart.  I  have  heard  the  rumble  of  your 
chariot  wheels  on  the  great  Highway,  and  I  knew 
that  you  were  on  the  King's  business.  Here  in  my 
hand  is  a  sheaf  of  messages  from  every  quarter  of 
my  kingdom.  They  were  delivered  by  weary  and 
footsore  travelers,  who  said  that  they  could  never 
have  reached  the  gate  in  safety  had  it  not  been  for 
your  help  and  inspiration.  Read  them,  that  you 
may  know  when  and  where  and  how  you  sped  the 
King's  service." 

And  when  the  Fairy  Godmother  reads  them,  it 


REBECCA  271 

/nay  be  that  sweet  odors  will  rise  from  the  pages, 
and  half-forgotten  memories  will  stir  the  air ;  but 
in  the  gladness  9f  the  moment  nothing  will  be  half 
so  lovely  as  the  voice  of  the  King  when  he  said : 
"  Read,  and  know  how  you  sped  the  King's  service." 
REBECCA  ROWENA  RANDAIX. 


XXVI 

"OVER   THE   TEACUPS" 

THE  summer  term  at  Wareham  had  ended, 
and  Huldah  Meserve,  Dick  Carter,  and 
Living  Perkins  had  finished  school,  leav 
ing  Rebecca  and  Emma  Jane  to  represent  River- 
boro  in  the  year  to  come.  Delia  Weeks  was  at  home 
from  Lewiston  on  a  brief  visit,  and  Mrs.  Robinson 
was  celebrating  the  occasion  by  a  small  and  select 
party,  the  particular  day  having  been  set  because 
strawberries  were  ripe  and  there  was  a  rooster  that 
wanted  killing.  Mrs.  Robinson  explained  this  to  her 
husband,  and  requested  that  he  eat  his  dinner  on 
the  carpenter's  bench  in  the  shed,  as  the  party  was 
to  be  a  ladies'  affair. 

"All  right ;  it  won't  be  any  loss  to  me,"  said  Mr. 
Robinson.  "  Give  me  beans,  that 's  all  I  ask.  When 
a  rooster  wants  to  be  killed,  I  want  somebody  else 
to  eat  him,  not  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Robinson  had  company  only  once  or  twice 
a  year,  and  was  generally  much  prostrated  for  sev 
eral  days  afterward,  the  struggle  between  pride  and 
parsimony  being  quite  too  great  a  strain  upon  her. 
It  was  necessary,  in  order  to  maintain  her  standing 
in  the  community,  to  furnish  a  good  "set  out,"  yet 
the  extravagance  of  the  proceeding  goaded  her  from 


REBECCA  273 

the  first  moment  she  began  to  stir  the  marble  cake 
to  the  moment  when  the  feast  appeared  upon  the 
table. 

The  rooster  had  been  boiling  steadily  over  a  slow 
fire  since  morning,  but  such  was  his  power  of  resist 
ance  that  his  shape  was  as  firm  and  handsome  in 
the  pot  as  on  the  first  moment  when  he  was  low 
ered  into  it. 

"  He  ain't  goin'  to  give  up  !  "  said  Alice,  peering 
nervously  under  the  cover,  "  and  he  looks  like  a 
scarecrow." 

"  We  '11  see  whether  he  gives  up  or  not  when  I 
take  a  sharp  knife  to  him,"  her  mother  answered; 
"  and  as  to  his  looks,  a  platter  full  o'  gravy  makes 
a  sight  o'  difference  with  old  roosters,  and  I  '11  put 
dumplings  round  the  aidge  ;  they  're  tumble  fillin', 
though  they  don't  belong  with  boiled  chicken." 

The  rooster  did  indeed  make  an  impressive  show 
ing,  lying  in  his  border  of  dumplings,  and  the  dish 
was  much  complimented  when  it  was  borne  in  by 
Alice.  This  was  fortunate,  as  the  chorus  of  admira 
tion  ceased  abruptly  when  the  ladies  began  to  eat 
the  fowl. 

"  I  was  glad  you  could  git  over  to  Huldy's  grad 
uation,  Delia,"  said  Mrs.  Meserve,  who  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  table  and  helped  the  chicken  while  Mrs. 
Robinson  poured  coffee  at  the  other  end.  She  was 
a  fit  mother  for  Huldah,  being  much  the  most  stylish 
person  in  Riverboro ;  ill  health  and  dress  were. 


274  REBECCA 

indeed,  her  two  chief  enjoyments  in  life.  It  was 
rumored  that  her  elaborately  curled  "  front  piece  " 
had  cost  five  dollars,  and  that  it  was  sent  into  Port 
land  twice  a  year  to  be  dressed  and  frizzed  ;  but 
it  is  extremely  difficult  to  discover  the  precise  facts 
in  such  cases,  and  a  conscientious  historian  always 
prefers  to  warn  a  too  credulous  reader  against 
imbibing  as  gospel  truth  something  that  might  be 
the  basest  perversion  of  it.  As  to  Mrs.  Meserve's 
appearance,  have  you  ever,  in  earlier  years,  sought 
the  comforting  society  of  the  cook  and  hung  over 
the  kitchen  table  while  she  rolled  out  sugar  gin 
gerbread  ?  Perhaps  then,  in  some  unaccustomed 
moment  of  amiability,  she  made  you  a  dough  lady, 
cutting  the  outline  deftly  with  her  pastry  knife,  and 
then,  at  last,  placing  the  human  stamp  upon  it  by 
sticking  in  two  black  currants  for  eyes.  Just  call  to 
mind  the  face  of  that  sugar  gingerbread  lady  and 
you  will  have  an  exact  portrait  of  Huldah's  mother, 
—  Mis'  Peter  Meserve,  she  was  generally  called, 
there  being  several  others. 

"How'd  you  like  Huldy's  dress,  Delia?"  she 
asked,  snapping  the  elastic  in  her  black  jet  bracelets 
after  an  irritating  fashion  she  had. 

"  I  thought  it  was  about  the  handsomest  of  any," 
answered  Delia;  "and  her  composition  was  first 
rate.  It  was  the  only  real  amusin'  one  there  was. 
and  she  read  it  so  loud  and  clear  we  did  n't  miss 
any  of  it ;  most  o'  the  girls  spoke  as  if  they  had 
hasty  puddin'  in  their  mouths." 


REBECCA  275 

"  That  was  the  composition  she  wrote  for  Adam 
Ladd's  prize,"  explained  Mrs.  Meserve,  "  and  they 
do  say  she  'd  'a'  come  out  first,  'stead  o'  fourth, 
if  her  subject  had  been  dif' rent.  There  was  three 
ministers  and  three  deacons  on  the  committee,  and 
it  was  only  natural  they  should  choose  a  serious 
piece ;  hers  was  too  lively  to  suit  'em." 

Huldah's  inspiring  theme  had  been  Boys,  and  she 
certainly  had  a  fund  of  knowledge  and  experience 
that  fitted  her  to  write  most  intelligently  upon  it.  It 
was  vastly  popular  with  the  audience,  who  enjoyed 
the  rather  cheap  jokes  and  allusions  with  which  it 
coruscated  ;  but  j  udged  from  a  purely  literary  stand 
point,  it  left  much  to  be  desired. 

"  Rebecca's  piece  wan't  read  out  loud,  but  the 
one  that  took  the  boy's  prize  was  ;  why  was  that  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Robinson. 

"  Because  she  wan't  graduating''  explained  Mrs. 
Cobb,  "  and  could  n't  take  part  in  the  exercises  ; 
it  '11  be  printed,  with  Herbert  Dunn's,  in  the  school 
paper." 

"I'm  glad  o'  that,  for  I  '11  never  believe  it  was 
better  'n  Huldy's  till  I  read  it  with  my  own  eyes  ; 
it  seems  as  if  the  prize  ought  to  'a'  gone  to  one  of 
the  seniors." 

"  Well,  no,  Marthy,  not  if  Ladd  offered  it  to  any 
of  the  two  upper  classes  that  wanted  to  try  for  it," 
argued  Mrs.  Robinson.  "  They  say  they  asked  him 
to  give  out  the  prizes,  and  he  refused,  up  and  down 


276  REBECCA 

It  seems  odd,  his  bein'  so  rich  and  travelin'  about 
all  over  the  country,  that  he  was  too  modest  to  git 
up  on  that  platform." 

"  My  Huldy  could  'a*  done  it,  and  not  winked  an 
eyelash,"  observed  Mrs.  Meserve  complacently ;  a 
remark  which  there  seemed  no  disposition  on  the 
part  of  any  of  the  company  to  controvert. 

"  It  was  complete,  though,  the  governor  happen 
ing  to  be  there  to  see  his  niece  graduate,"  said  Delia 
Weeks.  "  Land  !  he  looked  elegant !  They  say  he 's 
only  six  feet,  but  he  might  'a'  been  sixteen,  and  he 
certainly  did  make  a  fine  speech." 

"  Did  you  notice  Rebecca,  how  white  she  was, 
and  how  she  trembled  when  she  and  Herbert  Dunn 
stood  there  while  the  governor  was  praisin'  'em  ? 
He  'd  read  her  composition,  too,  for  he  wrote  the 
Sawyer  girls  a  letter  about  it."  This  remark  was 
from  the  sympathetic  Mrs.  Cobb. 

"  I  thought  't  was  kind  o'  foolish,  his  makin'  so 
much  of  her  when  it  wan't  her  graduation,"  ob 
jected  Mrs.  Meserve;  "layin'  his  hand  on  her  head 
V  all  that,  as  if  he  was  a  Pope  pronouncin'  benedic 
tion.  But  there  !  I  'm  glad  the  prize  come  to  River- 
boro  't  any  rate,  and  a  han'somer  one  never  was 
give  out  from  the  Wareham  platform.  I  guess  there 
ain't  no  end  to  Adam  Ladd's  money.  The  fifty  dol 
lars  would  'a'  been  good  enough,  but  he  must  needs 
go  and  put  it  into  those  elegant  purses." 

w  I  set  so  fur  back  I  could  'nt  see  'em  fairly," 


REBECCA  277 

complained  Delia,  "and  now  Rebecca  has  taken 
hers  home  to  show  her  mother." 

"  It  was  kind  of  a  gold  net  bag  with  a  chain,"  said 
Mrs.  Perkins,  "and  there  was  five  ten-dollar  gold 
pieces  in  it.  Herbert  Dunn's  was  put  in  a  fine 
leather  wallet." 

"  How  long  is  Rebecca  goin'  to  stay  at  the  farm  ? " 
asked  Delia. 

"  Till  they  get  over  Hannah's  bein'  married,  and 
get  the  house  to  runnin'  without  her,"  answered 
Mrs.  Perkins.  "  It  seems  as  if  Hannah  might  'a' 
waited  a  little  longer.  Aurelia  was  set  against  her 
goin'  away  while  Rebecca  was  at  school,  but  she  's 
obstinate  as  a  mule,  Hannah  is,  and  she  just  took 
her  own  way  in  spite  of  her  mother.  She  's  been 
doin'  her  sewin1  for  a  year ;  the  awfullest  coarse 
cotton  cloth  she  had,  but  she  's  nearly  blinded  her 
self  with  fine  stitchin'  and  rufflin'  and  tuckin'.  Did 
you  hear  about  the  quilt  she  made  ?  It 's  white,  and 
has  a  big  bunch  o'  grapes  in  the  centre,  quilted  by 
a  thimble  top.  Then  there  's  a  row  of  circle-bor- 
derin'  round  the  grapes,  and  she  done  them  the  size 
of  a  spool.  The  next  border  was  done  with  a  sherry 
glass,  and  the  last  with  a  port  glass,  an'  all  outside 
o'  that  was  solid  stitchin'  done  in  straight  rows ; 
she  's  goin'  to  exhibit  it  at  the  county  fair." 

"  She  'd  better  'a'  been  takin'  in  sewin'  and  earnin' 
money,  'stead  o'  blindin'  her  eyes  on  such  foolish 
ness  as  quilted  counterpanes,"  said  Mrs.  Cobb. 


278  REBECCA 

"  The  next  thing  you  know  that  mortgage  will  be 
foreclosed  on  Mis'  Randall,  and  she  and  the  chil 
dren  won't  have  a  roof  over  their  heads." 

"  Don't  they  say  there  's  a  good  chance  of  the 
railroad  goin'  through  her  place  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rob 
inson.  "  If  it  does,  she  '11  git  as  much  as  the  farm 
is  worth  and  more.  Adam  Ladd  's  one  of  the  stock 
holders,  and  everything  is  a  success  he  takes  holt 
of.  They  're  fightin'  it  in  Augusty,  but  I  'd  back 
Ladd  agin  any  o'  them  legislaters  if  he  thought  he 
was  in  the  right." 

"  Rebecca  '11  have  some  new  clothes  now,"  said 
Delia,  "  and  the  land  knows  she  needs  'em.  Seems 
to  me  the  Sawyer  girls  are  gittin'  tumble  near !  " 

"  Rebecca  won't  have  any  new  clothes  out  o'  the 
prize  money,"  remarked  Mrs.  Perkins,  "for  she  sent 
it  away  the  next  day  to  pay  the  interest  on  that 
mortgage." 

"  Poor  little  girl !  "  exclaimed  Delia  Weeks. 

"  She  might  as  well  help  along  her  folks  as  spend 
it  on  foolishness,"  affirmed  Mrs.  Robinson.  "  I  think 
she  was  mighty  lucky  to  git  it  to  pay  the  interest 
with,  but  she 's  probably  like  all  the  Randalls ;  it 
was  easy  come,  easy  go,  with  them." 

"  That 's  more  than  could  be  said  of  the  Sawyer 
stock,"  retorted  Mrs.  Perkins;  "seems  like  they 
enjoyed  savin'  more  'n  anything  in  the  world,  and 
it 's  gainin'  on  Mirandy  sence  her  shock." 

"I  don't  believe  it  was  a  shock;   it  stands  to 


REBECCA  279 

reason  she  'd  never  V  got  up  after  it  and  been  so 

smart  as  she  is  now ;  we  had  three  o'  the  worst 
shocks  in  our  family  that  there  ever  was  on  this 
river,  and  I  know  every  symptom  of  'em  better  'n 
the  doctors."  And  Mrs.  Peter  Meserve  shook  her 
head  wisely. 

"  Mirandy  's  smart  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Cobb, 
"  but  you  notice  she  stays  right  to  home,  and  she  's 
more  close-mouthed  than  ever  she  was ;  never  took 
a  mite  o'  pride  in  the  prize,  as  I  could  see,  though 
it  pretty  nigh  drove  Jeremiah  out  o'  his  senses.  I 
thought  I  should  'a'  died  o'  shame  when  he  cried 
'Hooray  ! '  and  swung  his  straw  hat  when  the  gov 
ernor  shook  hands  with  Rebecca.  It 's  lucky  he 
could  n't  get  fur  into  the  church  and  had  to  stand 
back  by  the  door,  for  as  it  was,  he  made  a  spectacle 
of  himself.  My  suspicion  is  "  —  and  here  every  lady 
stopped  eating  and  sat  up  straight  —  "that  the 
Sawyer  girls  have  lost  money.  They  don't  know  a 
thing  about  business  'n'  never  did,  and  Mirandy 's 
too  secretive  and  contrairy  to  ask  advice." 

"  The  most  o'  what  they  Ve  got  is  in  gov'ment 
bonds,  I  always  heard,  and  you  can't  lose  money 
on  them.  Jane  had  the  timber  land  left  her,  an' 
Mirandy  had  the  brick  house.  She  probably  took 
it  awful  hard  that  Rebecca's  fifty  dollars  had  to  be 
swallowed  up  in  a  mortgage,  'stead  of  goin'  towards 
school  expenses.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more 
I  think  Adam  Ladd  intended  Rebecca  should  hav£ 


280  REBECCA 

that  prize  when  he  gave  it."  The  mind  of  Huldah's 
mother  ran  towards  the  idea  that  her  daughter's 
rights  had  been  assailed. 

"  Land,  Marthy,  what  foolishness  you  talk ! "  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Perkins ;  "  you  don't  suppose  he 
could  tell  what  composition  the  committee  was 
going  to  choose ;  and  why  should  he  offer  another 
fifty  dollars  for  a  boy's  prize,  if  he  wan't  interested 
in  helpin'  along  the  school  ?  He 's  give  Emma  Jane 
about  the  same  present  as  Rebecca  every  Christ 
mas  for  five  years  ;  that 's  the  way  he  does." 

"  Some  time  he  '11  forget  one  of  'em  and  give  to 
the  other,  or  drop  'em  both  and  give  to  some  new 
girl ! "  said  Delia  Weeks,  with  an  experience  born 
of  fifty  years  of  spinsterhood. 

"  Like  as  not,"  assented  Mrs.  Peter  Meserve, 
"  though  it 's  easy  to  see  he  ain't  the  marryin'  kind. 
There 's  men  that  would  marry  once  a  year  if  their 
wives  would  die  fast  enough,  and  there 's  men  that 
seems  to  want  to  live  alone." 

"  If  Ladd  was  a  Mormon,  I  guess  he  could  have 
every  woman  in  North  Riverboro  that 's  a  suitable 
age,  accordin'  to  what  my  cousins  say,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Perkins. 

"  'T  ain't  likely  he  could  be  ketched  by  any  North 
Riverboro  girl,"  demurred  Mrs.  Robinson;  "not 
when  he  prob'bly  has  had  the  pick  o'  Boston.  I 
guess  Marthy  hit  it  when  she  said  there's  men 
that  ain't  the  marryin'  kind." 


REBECCA  281 

"  I  would  n't  trust  any  of  'em  when  Miss  Right 
comes  along  !  "  laughed  Mrs.  Cobb  genially.  "  You 
never  can  tell  what  'n'  who  's  goin'  to  please  'em. 
You  know  Jeremiah's  contrairy  horse,  Buster  ?  He 
won't  let  anybody  put  the  bit  into  his  mouth  if  he 
can  help  it.  He  '11  fight  Jerry,  and  fight  me,  till  he 
has  to  give  in.  Rebecca  did  n't  know  nothin'  about 
his  tricks,  and  the  other  day  she  went  int'  the 
barn  to  hitch  up.  I  followed  right  along,  knowing 
she  'd  have  trouble  with  the  headstall,  and  I  declare 
if  she  wan't  pattin'  Buster's  nose  and  talkin*  to 
him,  and  when  she  put  her  little  fingers  into  his 
mouth  he  opened  it  so  fur  I  thought  he  'd  swaller 
her,  for  sure.  He  jest  smacked  his  lips  over  the  bit 
as  if  't  was  a  lump  o'  sugar.  '  Land,  Rebecca,'  I 
says,  'how'd  you  persuade  him  to  take  the  bit?' 
'I  didn't,'  she  says,  'he  seemed  to  want  it;  per 
haps  he 's  tired  of  his  stall  and  wants  to  get  out  in 
the  fresh  air.' " 


XXVII 

"THE  VISION    SPLENDID" 

A  YEAR  had  elapsed  since  Adam  Ladd's 
prize  had  been  discussed  over  the  teacups 
in  Riverboro.  The  months  had  come  and 
gone,  and  at  length  the  great  day  had  dawned  for 
Rebecca,  —  the  day  to  which  she  had  been  looking 
forward  for  five  years,  as  the  first  goal  to  be  reached 
on  her  little  journey  through  the  world.  School 
days  were  ended,  and  the  mystic  function  known 
to  the  initiated  as  "  graduation  "  was  about  to  be 
celebrated ;  it  was  even  now  heralded  by  the  sun 
dawning  in  the  eastern  sky.  Rebecca  stole  softly 
out  of  bed,  crept  to  the  window,  threw  open  the 
blinds,  and  welcomed  the  rosy  light  that  meant  a 
cloudless  morning.  Even  the  sun  looked  different 
somehow, — larger,  redder,  more  important  than 
usual ;  and  if  it  were  really  so,  there  was  no  mem 
ber  of  the  graduating  class  who  would  have  thought 
it  strange  or  unbecoming,  in  view  of  all  the  cir 
cumstances.  Emma  Jane  stirred  on  her  pillow, 
woke,  and  seeing  Rebecca  at  the  window,  came  and 
knelt  on  the  floor  beside  her.  "  It 's  going  to  be 
pleasant !  "  she  sighed  gratefully.  "  If  it  was  n't 
wicked,  I  could  thank  the  Lord,  I  'm  so  relieved  in 
mind  !  Did  you  sleep  ? " 


REBECCA  283 

"  Not  much  ;  the  words  of  my  class  poem  kept 
running  through  my  head,  and  the  accompaniments 
of  the  songs;  and  worse  than  anything,  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots'  prayer  in  Latin  ;  it  seemed  as  if 

"  '  Adoro,  imploro, 
Ut  liberes  me  ! ' 

were  burned  into  my  brain." 

No  one  who  is  unfamiliar  with  life  in  rural 
neighborhoods  can  imagine  the  gravity,  the  impor 
tance,  the  solemnity  of  this  last  day  of  school.  In 
the  matter  of  preparation,  wealth  of  detail,  and  gen 
eral  excitement  it  far  surpasses  a  wedding  ;  for  that 
is  commonly  a  simple  affair  in  the  country,  some 
times  even  beginning  and  ending  in  a  visit  to  the 
parsonage.  Nothing  quite  equals  graduation  in  the 
minds  of  the  graduates  themselves,  their  families, 
and  the  younger  students,  unless  it  be  the  inaugu 
ration  of  a  governor  at  the  State  Capitol.  Ware- 
ham,  then,  was  shaken  to  its  very  centre  on  this 
day  of  days.  Mothers  and  fathers  of  the  scholars, 
as  well  as  relatives  to  the  remotest  generation,  had 
been  coming  on  the  train  and  driving  into  the  town 
since  breakfast  time  ;  old  pupils,  both  married  and 
single,  with  and  without  families,  streamed  back  to 
the  dear  old  village.  The  two  livery  stables  were 
crowded  with  vehicles  of  all  sorts,  and  lines  of  bug 
gies  and  wagons  were  drawn  up  along  the  sides  of 
the  shady  roads,  the  horses  switching  their  tails  in 


284  REBECCA 

luxurious  idleness.  The  streets  were  filled  with 
people  wearing  their  best  clothes,  and  the  fashions 
included  not  only  "  the  latest  thing,"  but  the  well 
preserved  relic  of  a  bygone  day.  There  were  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  and  women,  for  there 
were  sons  and  daughters  of  storekeepers,  lawyers, 
butchers,  doctors,  shoemakers,  professors,  min 
isters,  and  farmers  at  the  Wareham  schools,  either 
as  boarders  or  day  scholars.  In  the  seminary  build 
ing  there  was  an  excitement  so  deep  and  profound 
that  it  expressed  itself  in  a  kind  of  hushed  silence, 
a  transient  suspension  of  life,  as  those  most  inter 
ested  approached  the  crucial  moment.  The  femi 
nine  graduates-to-be  were  seated  in  their  own 
bedrooms,  dressed  with  a  completeness  of  detail 
to  which  all  their  past  lives  seemed  to  have  been 
but  a  prelude.  At  least,  this  was  the  case  with  their 
bodies  ;  but  their  heads,  owing  to  the  extreme  heat 
of  the  day,  were  one  and  all  ornamented  with  leads, 
or  papers,  or  dozens  of  little  braids,  to  issue  later 
in  every  sort  of  curl  known  to  the  girl  of  that 
period.  Rolling  the  hair  on  leads  or  papers  was  a 
favorite  method  of  attaining  the  desired  result,  and 
though  it  often  entailed  a  sleepless  night,  there 
were  those  who  gladly  paid  the  price.  Others,  in 
whose  veins  the  blood  of  martyrs  did  not  flow,  sub 
stituted  rags  for  leads  and  pretended  that  they 
made  a  more  natural  and  less  woolly  curl.  Heat, 
however,  will  melt  the  proudest  head  and  reduce 


REBECCA  285 

to  fiddling  strings  the  finest  product  of  the  wav- 
ing-pin  ;  so  anxious  mothers  were  stationed  over 
their  offspring,  waving  palm-leaf  fans,  it  having 
been  decided  that  the  supreme  instant  when  the 
town  clock  struck  ten  should  be  the  one  chosen 
for  releasing  the  prisoners  from  their  self-imposed 
tortures. 

Dotted  or  plain  Swiss  muslin  was  the  favorite 
garb,  though  there  were  those  who  were  steaming 
in  white  cashmere  or  alpaca,  because  in  some  cases 
such  frocks  were  thought  more  useful  afterwards. 
Blue  and  pink  waist  ribbons  were  lying  over  the 
backs  of  chairs,  and  the  girl  who  had  a  Roman 
sash  was  praying  that  she  might  be  kept  from 
vanity  and  pride. 

The  way  to  any  graduating  dress  at  all  had  not 
seemed  clear  to  Rebecca  until  a  month  before. 
Then,  in  company  with  Emma  Jane,  she  visited  the 
Perkins  attic,  found  piece  after  piece  of  white  but 
ter-muslin  or  cheesecloth,  and  decided  that,  at  a 
pinch,  it  would  do.  The  "  rich  blacksmith's  daugh 
ter"  cast  the  thought  of  dotted  Swiss  behind  her, 
and  elected  to  follow  Rebecca  in  cheesecloth  as 
she  had  in  higher  matters;  straightway  devising 
costumes  that  included  such  drawing  of  threads, 
such  hemstitching  and  pin-tucking,  such  insertions 
of  fine  thread  tatting  that,  in  order  to  be  finished, 
Rebecca's  dress  was  given  out  in  sections,  —  the 
sash  to  Hannah,  waist  and  sleeves  to  Mrs.  Cobb, 


286  REBECCA 

and  skirt  to  aunt  Jane.  The  stitches  that  went 
into  the  despised  material,  worth  only  three  or 
four  pennies  a  yard,  made  the  dresses  altogether 
lovely,  and  as  for  the  folds  and  lines  into  which 
they  fell,  they  could  have  given  points  to  satins 
and  brocades. 

The  two  girls  were  waiting  in  their  room  alone, 
Emma  Jane  in  rather  a  tearful  state  of  mind.  She 
kept  thinking  that  it  was  the  last  day  that  they 
would  be  together  in  this  altogether  sweet  and 
close  intimacy.  The  beginning  of  the  end  seemed 
to  have  dawned,  for  two  positions  had  been  offered 
Rebecca  by  Mr.  Morrison  the  day  before :  one  in 
which  she  would  play  for  singing  and  calisthenics, 
and  superintend  the  piano  practice  of  the  younger 
girls  in  a  boarding-school ;  the  other  an  assistant's 
place  in  the  Edgewood  High  School.  Both  were 
very  modest  as  to  salary,  but  the  former  included 
educational  advantages  that  Miss  Maxwell  thought 
might  be  valuable. 

Rebecca's  mood  had  passed  from  that  of  excite 
ment  into  a  sort  of  exaltation,  and  when  the  first 
bell  rang  through  the  corridors  announcing  that  in 
five  minutes  the  class  would  proceed  in  a  body  to 
the  church  for  the  exercises,  she  stood  motionless 
and  speechless  at  the  window  with  her  hand  on 
her  heart. 

"  It  is  coming,  Emmie,"  she  said  presently  ;  "do 
you  remember  in  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  when 


REBECCA  287 

Maggie  Tulliver  closed  the  golden  gates  of  child 
hood  behind  her  ?  I  can  almost  see  them  swing ; 
almost  hear  them  clang  ;  and  I  can't  tell  whether  I 
am  glad  or  sorry." 

"  I  should  n't  care  how  they  swung  or  clanged," 
said  Emma  Jane,  "  if  only  you  and  I  were  on  the 
same  side  of  the  gate  ;  but  we  shan't  be,  I  know 
we  shan't !" 

"  Emmie,  don't  dare  to  cry,  for  I  'm  just  on  the 
brink  myself !  If  only  you  were  graduating  with 
me ;  that 's  my  only  sorrow  !  There  !  I  hear  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels  !  People  will  be  seeing  our 
grand  surprise  now !  Hug  me  once  for  luck>  dear 
Emmie ;  a  careful  hug,  remembering  our  butter- 
muslin  frailty !  " 

Ten  minutes  later,  Adam  Ladd,  who  had  just 
arrived  from  Portland  and  was  wending  his  way  to 
the  church,  came  suddenly  into  the  main  street  and 
stopped  short  under  a  tree  by  the  wayside,  riveted 
to  the  spot  by  a  scene  of  picturesque  loveliness 
such  as  his  eyes  had  seldom  witnessed  before.  The 
class  of  which  Rebecca  was  president  was  not 
likely  to  follow  accepted  customs.  Instead  of  march 
ing  two  by  two  from  the  seminary  to  the  church, 
they  had  elected  to  proceed  thither  by  royal  chariot. 
A  haycart  had  been  decked  with  green  vines  and 
bunches  of  long-stemmed  field  daisies,  those  gay 
darlings  of  New  England  meadows.  Every  inch  of 
the  rail,  the  body,  even  the  spokes,  all  were  twined 


288  REBECCA 

with  yellow  and  green  and  white.  There  were  two 
white  horses,  flower-trimmed  reins,  and  in  the  floral 
bower,  seated  on  maple  boughs,  were  the  twelve 
girls  of  the  class,  while  the  ten  boys  marched  on 
either  side  of  the  vehicle,  wearing  buttonhole  bou 
quets  of  daisies,  the  class  flower. 

Rebecca  drove,  seated  on  a  green-covered  bench 
that  looked  not  unlike  a  throne.  No  girl  clad 
in  white  muslin,  no  happy  girl  of  seventeen,  is 
plain ;  and  the  twelve  little  country  maids,  from 
the  vantage  ground  of  their  setting,  looked  beau 
tiful,  as  the  June  sunlight  filtered  down  on  their 
uncovered  heads,  showing  their  bright  eyes,  their 
fresh  cheeks,  their  smiles,  and  their  dimples. 

Rebecca,  Adam  thought,  as  he  took  off  his  hat 
and  saluted  the  pretty  panorama,  —  Rebecca,  with 
her  tall  slenderness,  her  thoughtful  brow,  the  fire 
of  young  joy  in  her  face,  her  fillet  of  dark  braided 
hair,  might  have  been  a  young  Muse  or  Sibyl ;  and 
the  flowery  hayrack,  with  its  freight  of  blooming 
girlhood,  might  have  been  painted  as  an  allegorical 
picture  of  The  Morning  of  Life.  It  all  passed  him, 
as  he  stood  under  the  elms  in  the  old  village  street 
where  his  mother  had  walked  half  a  century  ago, 
and  he  was  turning  with  the  crowd  towards  the 
church  when  he  heard  a  little  sob.  Behind  a  hedge 
in  the  garden  near  where  he  was  standing  was  a 
forlorn  person  in  white,  whose  neat  nose,  chestnut 
hair,  and  blue  eyes  he  seemed  to  know.  He  stepped 


REBECCA  289 

inside  the  gate  and  said,  "  What 's  wrong,  Miss 
Emma?  " 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  Mr.  Ladd  ?  Rebecca  would  n't 
let  me  cry  for  fear  of  spoiling  my  looks,  but  I  must 
have  just  one  chance  before  I  go  in.  I  can  be  as 
homely  as  I  like,  after  all,  for  I  only  have  to  sing 
with  the  school;  I'm  not  graduating,  I'm  just 
leaving !  Not  that  I  mind  that ;  it 's  only  being 
separated  from  Rebecca  that  I  never  can  stand !  " 

The  two  walked  along  together,  Adam  comfort 
ing  the  disconsolate  Emma  Jane,  until  they  reached 
the  old  meeting-house  where  the  Commencement 
exercises  were  always  held.  The  interior,  with 
its  decorations  of  yellow,  green,  and  white,  was 
crowded,  the  air  hot  and  breathless,  the  essays  and 
songs  and  recitations  precisely  like  all  others  that 
have  been  since  the  world  began.  One  always  fears 
that  the  platform  may  sink  under  the  weight  of 
youthful  platitudes  uttered  on  such  occasions  ;  yet 
one  can  never  be  properly  critical,  because  the  sight 
of  the  boys  and  girls  themselves,  those  young  and 
hopeful  makers  of  to-morrow,  disarms  one's  scorn. 
We  yawn  desperately  at  the  essays,  but  our  hearts 
go  out  to  the  essayists,  all  the  same,  for  "  the  vision 
splendid  "  is  shining  in  their  eyes,  and  there  is  no 
fear  of  "th'  inevitable  yoke  "  that  the  years  are  so 
surely  bringing  them. 

Rebecca  saw  Hannah  and  her  husband  in  the 
audience ;  dear  old  John  and  cousin  Ann  also,  and 


290  REBECCA 

felt  a  pang  at  the  absence  of  her  mother,  though 
she  had  known  there  was  no  possibility  of  seeing 
her ;  for  poor  Aurelia  was  kept  at  Sunnybrook  by 
cares  of  children  and  farm,  and  lack  of  money 
either  for  the  journey  or  for  suitable  dress.  The 
Cobbs  she  saw  too.  No  one,  indeed,  could  fail  to 
see  uncle  Jerry ;  for  he  shed  tears  more  than  once, 
and  in  the  intervals  between  the  essays  descanted 
to  his  neighbors  concerning  the  marvelous  gifts 
of  one  of  the  graduating  class  whom  he  had  known 
ever  since  she  was  a  child  ;  in  fact,  had  driven  her 
from  Maplewood  to  Riverboro  when  she  left  her 
home,  and  he  had  told  mother  that  same  night  that 
there  wan't  nary  rung  on  the  ladder  o'  fame  that 
that  child  would  n't  mount  before  she  got  through 
with  it. 

The  Cobbs,  then,  had  come,  and  there  were 
other  Riverboro  faces,  but  where  was  aunt  Jane, 
in  her  black  silk  made  over  especially  for  this  oc 
casion  ?  Aunt  Miranda  had  not  intended  to  come, 
she  knew,  but  where,  on  this  day  of  days,  was  her 
beloved  aunt  Jane  ?  Hewever,  this  thought,  like 
all  others,  came  and  went  in  a  flash,  for  the  whole 
morning  was  like  a  series  of  magic  lantern  pic 
tures,  crossing  and  recrossing  her  field  of  vision. 
She  played,  she  sang,  she  recited  Queen  Mary's 
Latin  prayer,  like  one  in  a  dream,  only  brought  to 
consciousness  by  meeting  Mr.  Aladdin's  eyes  as 
she  spoke  the  last  line.  Then  at  the  end  of  the 


REBECCA  291 

programme  came  her  class  poem,  Makers  of  To 
morrow  ;  and  there,  as  on  many  a  former  occasion, 
her  personality  played  so  great  a  part  that  she 
seemed  to  be  uttering  Miltonic  sentiments  instead 
of  school-girl  verse.  Her  voice,  her  eyes,  her  body 
breathed  conviction,  earnestness,  emotion  ;  and 
when  she  left  the  platform  the  audience  felt  that 
they  had  listened  to  a  masterpiece.  Most  of  her 
hearers  knew  little  of  Carlyle  or  Emerson,  or  they 
might  have  remembered  that  the  one  said,  "  We 
are  all  poets  when  we  read  a  poem  well,"  and  the 
other,  "  'T  is  the  good  reader  makes  the  good 
book." 

It  was  over !  The  diplomas  had  been  presented, 
and  each  girl,  after  giving  furtive  touches  to  her 
hair,  sly  tweaks  to  her  muslin  skirts,  and  caressing 
pats  to  her  sash,  had  gone  forward  to  receive  the 
roll  of  parchment  with  a  bow  that  had  been  the 
subject  of  anxious  thought  for  weeks.  Rounds  of 
applause  greeted  each  graduate  at  this  thrilling 
moment,  and  Jeremiah  Cobb's  behavior,  when  Re 
becca  came  forward,  was  the  talk  of  Wareham  and 
Riverboro  for  days.  Old  Mrs.  Webb  avowed  that 
he,  in  the  space  of  two  hours,  had  worn  out  her 
pew  more  —  the  carpet,  the  cushions,  and  wood 
work  —  than  she  had  by  sitting  in  it  forty  years. 
Yes,  it  was  over,  and  after  the  crowd  had  thinned 
a  little,  Adam  Ladd  made  his  way  to  the  platform. 

Rebecca  turned  from  speaking  to  some  stran- 


REBECCA 

gers  and  met  him  in  the  aisle.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Aladdin, 
I  am  so  glad  you  could  come  !  Tell  me  "  —  and  she 
looked  at  him  half  shyly,  for  his  approval  was  dearer 
to  her,  and  more  difficult  to  win,  than  that  of  the 
others  —  "  tell  me,  Mr.  Aladdin,  —  were  you  sat 
isfied  ? " 

"More  than  satisfied!"  he  said;  "glad  I  met 
the  child,  proud  I  know  the  girl,  longing  to  meet 
the  woman ! " 


XXVIII 
«TH'  INEVITABLE  YOKE" 

K;BECCA'S  heart  beat  high  at  this  sweet 
praise  from  her  hero's  lips,  but  before  she 
had  found  words  to  thank  him,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Cobb,  who  had  been  modestly  biding  their 
time  in  a  corner,  approached  her  and  she  introduced 
them  to  Mr.  Ladd. 

"  Where,  where  is  aunt  Jane  ?  "  she  cried,  holding 
aunt  Sarah's  hand  on  one  side  and  uncle  Jerry's 
on  the  other. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  lovey,  but  we  Ve  got  bad  news  for 
you." 

"  Is  aunt  Miranda  worse  ?  She  is ;  I  can  see  it 
by  your  looks  ;  "  and  Rebecca's  color  faded. 

"  She  had  a  second  stroke  yesterday  morning 
jest  when  she  was  helpin'  Jane  lay  out  her  things 
to  come  here  to-day.  Jane  said  you  wan't  to  know 
anything  about  it  till  the  exercises  was  all  over,  and 
we  promised  to  keep  it  secret  till  then." 

"  I  will  go  right  home  with  you,  aunt  Sarah.  I 
must  just  run  to  tell  Miss  Maxwell,  for  after  I  had 
packed  up  to-morrow  I  was  going  to  Brunswick  with 
her.  Poor  aunt  Miranda !  And  I  have  been  so  gay 
and  happy  all  day,  except  that  I  was  longing  for 
mother  and  aunt  Jane," 


294  REBECCA 

"  There  ain't  no  harm  in  bein'  gay,  lovey  ;  that 's 
what  Jane  wanted  you  to  be.  And  Miranda 's  got 
her  speech  back,  for  your  aunt  has  just  sent  a  letter 
sayin'  she's  better;  and  I  'm  goin'  to  set  up  to-night, 
so  you  can  stay  here  and  have  a  good  sleep,  and  get 
your  things  together  comfortably  to-morrow." 

"  I  '11  pack  your  trunk  for  you,  Becky  dear,  and 
attend  to  all  our  room  things,"  said  Emma  Jane, 
who  had  come  towards  the  group  and  heard  the 
sorrowful  news  from  the  brick  house. 

They  moved  into  one  of  the  quiet  side  pews, 
where  Hannah  and  her  husband  and  John  joined 
them.  From  time  to  time  some  straggling  acquaint 
ance  or  old  schoolmate  would  come  up  to  congratu 
late  Rebecca  and  ask  why  she  had  hidden  herself 
in  a  corner.  Then  some  member  of  the  class  would 
call  to  her  excitedly,  reminding  her  not  to  be  late 
at  the  picnic  luncheon,  or  begging  her  to  be  early 
at  the  class  party  in  the  evening.  All  this  had  an 
air  of  unreality  to  Rebecca.  In  the  midst  of  the 
happy  excitement  of  the  last  two  days,  when  "  blush 
ing  honors  "  had  been  falling  thick  upon  her,  and 
behind  the  delicious  exaltation  of  the  morning,  had 
been  the  feeling  that  the  condition  was  a  transient 
one,  and  that  the  burden,  the  struggle,  the  anxiety, 
would  soon  loom  again  on  the  horizon.  She  longed 
to  steal  away  into  the  woods  with  dear  old  John, 
grown  so  manly  and  handsome,  and  get  some  com 
fort  from  him. 


REBECCA  295 

Meantime  Adam  Ladd  and  Mr.  Cobb  had  been 
having  an  animated  conversation. 

"  I  s'pose  up  to  Boston,  girls  like  that  one  are  as 
thick  as  blackb'ries  ?  "  uncle  Jerry  said,  jerking  his 
head  interrogatively  in  Rebecca's  direction. 

"  They  may  be,"  smiled  Adam,  taking  in  the  old 
man's  mood ;  "  only  I  don't  happen  to  know  one." 

"  My  eyesight  bein'  poor 's  the  reason  she  looked 
han'somest  of  any  girl  on  the  platform,  I  s'pose  ? " 

"There  's  no  failure  in  my  eyes,"  responded  Adam, 
"but  that  was  how  the  thing  seemed  to  me  !  " 

"  What  did  you  think  of  her  voice  ?  Anything 
extry  about  it  ?  " 

"Made  the  others  sound  poor  and  thin,  I 
thought." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  to  hear  your  opinion,  you  bein' 
a  traveled  man,  for  mother  says  I  'm  foolish  'bout 
Rebecky  and  hev  been  sence  the  fust.  Mother 
scolds  me  for  spoilin'  her,  but  I  notice  mother  ain't 
fur  behind  when  it  comes  to  spoilin'.  Land !  it 
made  me  sick,  thinkin'  o'  them  parents  travelin' 
miles  to  see  their  young  ones  graduate,  and  then 
when  they  got  here  hevin'  to  compare  'em  with  Re 
becky.  Good-by,  Mr.  Ladd,  drop  in  some  day  when 
you  come  to  Riverboro." 

"  I  will,"  said  Adam,  shaking  the  old  man's  hand 
cordially ;  "  perhaps  to-morrow  if  I  drive  Rebecca 
home,  as  I  shall  offer  to  do.  Do  you  think  Miss 
Sawyer's  condition  is  serious  ?  " 


296  REBECCA 

"  Well,  the  doctor  don't  seem  to  know ;  but  any- 
how  she 's  paralyzed,  and  she  '11  never  walk  fur 
again,  poor  soul !  She  ain't  lost  her  speech  ;  that  '11 
be  a  comfort  to  her." 

Adam  left  the  church,  and  in  crossing  the  com- 
mon  came  upon  Miss  Maxwell  doing  the  honors 
of  the  institution,  as  she  passed  from  group  to 
group  of  strangers  and  guests.  Knowing  that 
she  was  deeply  interested  in  all  Rebecca's  plans,  he 
told  her,  as  he  drew  her  aside,  that  the  girl  would 
have  to  leave  Wareham  for  Riverboro  the  next 
day. 

"That  is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear! "  exclaimed 
Miss  Maxwell,  sitting  down  on  a  bench  and  stabbing 
the  greensward  with  her  parasol.  "  It  seems  to  me 
Rebecca  never  has  any  respite.  I  had  so  many 
plans  for  her  this  next  month  in  fitting  her  for  her 
position,  and  now  she  will  settle  down  to  house 
work  again,  and  to  the  nursing  of  that  poor,  sick, 
cross  old  aunt." 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  cross  old  aunt,  Re 
becca  would  still  have  been  at  Sunnybrook;  and 
from  the  standpoint  of  educational  advantages,  or 
indeed  advantages  of  any  sort,  she  might  as  well 
have  been  in  the  backwoods,"  returned  Adam. 

"  That  is  true ;  I  was  vexed  when  I  spoke,  for  I 
thought  an  easier  and  happier  day  was  dawning  for 
my  prodigy  and  pearl." 

*  Ovr  prodigy  and  pearl,"  corrected  Adam. 


REBECCA  297 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  she  laughed.  "  I  always  forget  that 
it  pleases  you  to  pretend  you  discovered  Rebecca." 

"  I  believe,  though,  that  happier  days  are  dawning 
for  her,"  continued  Adam.  "  It  must  be  a  secret 
for  the  present,  but  Mrs.  Randall's  farm  will  be 
bought  by  the  new  railroad.  We  must  have  right 
of  way  through  the  land,  and  the  station  will  be 
built  on  her  property.  She  will  receive  six  thousand 
dollars,  which,  though  not  a  fortune,  will  yield  her 
three  or  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,  if  she  will 
allow  me  to  invest  it  for  her.  There  is  a  mortgage 
on  the  land  ;  that  paid,  and  Rebecca  self-supporting, 
the  mother  ought  to  push  the  education  of  the  old 
est  boy,  who  is  a  fine,  ambitious  fellow.  He  should 
be  taken  away  from  farm  work  and  settled  at  his 
studies." 

"  We  might  form  ourselves  into  a  Randall  Pro 
tective  Agency,  Limited,"  mused  Miss  Maxwell  "  I 
confess  I  want  Rebecca  to  have  a  career." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Adam  promptly. 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  Men  have  no  interest  in 
the  careers  of  women  !  But  I  know  Rebecca  better 
than  you." 

"  You  understand  her  mind  better,  but  not  neces 
sarily  her  heart.  You  are  considering  her  for  the 
moment  as  prodigy ;  I  am  thinking  of  her  more  as 
pearl." 

"  Well,"  sighed  Miss  Maxwell  whimsically,  "  pro 
digy  or  pearl,  the  Randall  Protective  Agency  may 


298  REBECCA 

pull  Rebecca  in  opposite  directions,  but  neverthe 
less  she  will  follow  her  saint." 

"  That  will  content  me,"  said  Adam  gravely. 

"Particularly  if  the  saint  beckons  your  way." 
And  Miss  Maxwell  looked  up  and  smiled  provok- 
ingly. 

Rebecca  did  not  see  her  aunt  Miranda  till  she 
had  been  at  the  brick  house  for  several  days.  Mi 
randa  steadily  refused  to  have  any  one  but  Jane  in 
the  room  until  her  face  had  regained  its  natural 
look,  but  her  door  was  always  ajar,  and  Jane  fancied 
she  liked  to  hear  Rebecca's  quick,  light  step.  Her 
mind  was  perfectly  clear  now,  and,  save  that  she 
could  not  move,  she  was  most  of  the  time  quite  free 
from  pain,  and  alert  in  every  nerve  to  all  that  was 
going  on  within  or  without  the  house.  "  Were  the 
windfall  apples  being  picked  up  for  sauce  ;  were  the 
potatoes  thick  in  the  hills  ;  was  the  corn  tosselin* 
out ;  were  they  cuttin*  the  upper  field ;  were  they 
keepin'  fly-paper  laid  out  everywheres  ;  were  there 
any  ants  in  the  dairy  ;  was  the  kindlin'  wood  holdin' 
out ;  had  the  bank  sent  the  cowpons  ?  " 

Poor  Miranda  Sawyer !  Hovering  on  the  verge 
of  the  great  beyond,  —  her  body  "  struck"  and  no 
longer  under  control  of  her  iron  will,  —  no  divine 
visions  floated  across  her  tired  brain  ;  nothing  but 
petty  cares  and  sordid  anxieties.  Not  all  at  once 
can  the  soul  talk  with  God,  be  He  ever  so  near.  If 


REBECCA  299 

the  heavenly  language  never  has  been  learned, 
quick  as  is  the  spiritual  sense  in  seizing  the  facts  it 
needs,  then  the  poor  soul  must  use  the  words  and 
phrases  it  has  lived  on  and  grown  into  day  by  day. 
Poor  Miss  Miranda !  —  held  fast  within  the  prison 
walls  of  her  own  nature,  blind  in  the  presence  of 
revelation  because  she  had  never  used  the  spiritual 
eye,  deaf  to  angelic  voices  because  she  had  not  used 
the  spiritual  ear. 

There  came  a  morning  when  she  asked  for  Re 
becca.  The  door  was  opened  into  the  dim  sick 
room,  and  Rebecca  stood  there  with  the  sunlight 
behind  her,  her  hands  full  of  sweet  peas.  Miranda's 
pale,  sharp  face,  framed  in  its  nightcap,  looked  hag 
gard  on  the  pillow,  and  her  body  was  pitifully  still 
under  the  counterpane. 

"Come  in,"  she  said;  "I  ain't  dead  yet.  Don't 
mess  up  the  bed  with  them  flowers,  will  ye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  They  're  going  in  a  glass  pitcher,"  said 
Rebecca,  turning  to  the  washstand  as  she  tried  to 
control  her  voice  and  stop  the  tears  that  sprang 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Let  me  look  at  ye  ;  come  closer.  What  dress 
are  ye  wearin'  ? "  said  the  old  aunt  in  her  cracked, 
weak  voice. 

"My  blue  calico." 

"  Is  your  cashmere  holdin'  its  color  ?  " 

"  Yes,  aunt  Miranda." 

"  Do  you  keep  it  in  a  dark  closet  hung  on  the 
wrong  side,  as  I  told  ye  ?  " 


300  REBECCA 

"Always." 

"  Has  your  mother  made  her  jelly  ? " 

"  She  has  n't  said." 

"  She  always  had  the  knack  o'  writin'  letters  with 
nothin'  in  'em.  What 's  Mark  broke  sence  I  've  been 
sick?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,  aunt  Miranda." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  him?  Gittin' 
lazy,  ain't  he  ?  How  's  John  turnin'  out  ? " 

"  He  's  going  to  be  the  best  of  us  all." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  slight  things  in  the  kitchen 
because  I  ain't  there.  Do  you  scald  the  coffee-pot 
and  turn  it  upside  down  on  the  winder-sill  ? " 

"Yes,  aunt  Miranda." 

"It's  always  'yes'  with  you,  and  'yes'  with 
Jane,"  groaned  Miranda,  trying  to  move  her  stiff 
ened  body ;  "  but  all  the  time  I  lay  here  knowin' 
there  's  things  done  the  way  I  don't  like  'em." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  Rebecca 
sat  down  by  the  bedside  and  timidly  touched  her 
aunt's  hand,  her  heart  swelling  with  tender  pity  at 
the  gaunt  face  and  closed  eyes. 

"  I  was  dreadful  ashamed  to  have  you  graduate 
in  cheesecloth,  Rebecca,  but  I  could  n't  help  it  no 
how.  You  '11  hear  the  reason  some  time,  and  know 
I  tried  to  make  it  up  to  ye.  I  'm  afraid  you  was  a 
laughin'-stock  ! " 

"  No,"  Rebecca  answered.  "  Ever  so  many  people 
said  our  dresses  were  the  very  prettiest ;  they  looked 


REBECCA  301 

like  soft  lace.  You  're  not  to  be  anxious  about  any 
thing.  Here  I  am  all  grown  up  and  graduated, — 
number  three  in  a  class  of  twenty-two,  aunt  Mi 
randa,  —  and  good  positions  offered  me  already. 
Look  at  me,  big  and  strong  and  young,  all  ready  to 
go  into  the  world  and  show  what  you  and  aunt 
Jane  have  done  for  me.  If  you  want  me  near,  I  '11 
take  the  Edgewood  school,  so  that  I  can  be  here 
nights  and  Sundays  to  help  ;  and  if  you  get  better, 
then  I  '11  go  to  Augusta,  —  for  that 's  a  hundred 
dollars  more,  with  music  lessons  and  other  things 
beside." 

"  You  listen  to  me,"  said  Miranda  quaveringly. 
"  Take  the, best  place,  regardless  o'  my  sickness. 
I  'd  like  to  live  long  enough  to  know  you  'd  paid  off 
that  mortgage,  but  I  guess  I  shan't." 

Here  she  ceased  abruptly,  having  talked  more 
than  she  had  for  weeks  ;  and  Rebecca  stole  out  of 
the  room,  to  cry  by  herself  and  wonder  if  old  age 
must  be  so  grim,  so  hard,  so  unchastened  and  un 
sweetened,  as  it  slipped  into  the  valley  of  the 
shadow. 

The  days  went  on,  and  Miranda  grew  stronger 
and  stronger ;  her  will  seemed  unassailable,  and 
before  long  she  could  be  moved  into  a  chair  by  the 
window,  her  dominant  thought  being  to  arrive  at 
such  a  condition  of  improvement  that  the  doctor 
need  not  call  more  than  once  a  week,  instead  of 
daily  ;  thereby  diminishing  the  bill,  that  was  mount- 


302  REBECCA 

ing  to  such  a  terrifying  sum  that  it  haunted  her 
thoughts  by  day  and  dreams  by  night. 

Little  by  little  hope  stole  back  into  Rebecca's 
young  heart.  Aunt  Jane  began  to  "  clear  starch  " 
her  handkerchiefs  and  collars  and  purple  muslin 
dress,  so  that  she  might  be  ready  to  go  to  Bruns 
wick  at  any  moment  when  the  doctor  pronounced 
Miranda  well  on  the  road  to  recovery.  Everything 
beautiful  was  to  happen  in  Brunswick  if  she 
could  be  there  by  August,  —  everything  that  heart 
could  wish  or  imagination  conceive,  for  she  was  to 
be  Miss  Emily's  very  own  visitor,  and  sit  at  table 
with  college  professors  and  other  great  men. 

At  length  the  day  dawned  when  the  few  clean, 
simple  dresses  were  packed  in  the  hair  trunk,  to 
gether  with  her  beloved  coral  necklace,  her  cheese 
cloth  graduating  dress,  her  class  pin,  aunt  Jane's 
lace  cape,  and  the  one  new  hat,  which  she  tried  on 
every  night  before  going  to  bed.  It  was  of  white 
chip  with  a  wreath  of  cheap  white  roses  and  green 
leaves,  and  cost  between  two  and  three  dollars,  an 
unprecedented  sum  in  Rebecca's  experience.  The 
effect  of  its  glories  when  worn  with  her  nightdress 
was  dazzling  enough,  but  if  ever  it  appeared  in  con 
junction  with  the  cheesecloth  gown,  Rebecca  felt 
that  even  reverend  professors  might  regard  it  with 
respect.  It  is  probable  indeed  that  any  professorial 
gaze  lucky  enough  to  meet  a  pair  of  dark  eyes  shin 
ing  under  that  white  rose  garland  would  never  have 
stopped  at  respect  I 


REBECCA  303 

Then,  when  all  was  ready  and  Abijah  Flagg  at 
the  door,  came  a  telegram  from  Hannah  :  "  Come 
at  once.  Mother  has  had  bad  accident." 

In  less  than  an  hour  Rebecca  was  started  on  her 
way  to  Sunnybrook,  her  heart  palpitating  with  fear 
as  to  what  might  be  awaiting  her  at  her  journey's 
end. 

Death,  at  all  events,  was  not  there  to  meet  her ; 
but  something  that  looked  at  first  only  too  much 
like  it.  Her  mother  had  been  standing  on  the  hay 
mow  superintending  some  changes  in  the  barn, 
had  been  seized  with  giddiness,  they  thought,  and 
slipped.  The  right  knee  was  fractured  and  the  back 
strained  and  hurt,  but  she  was  conscious  and  in  no 
immediate  danger,  so  Rebecca  wrote,  when  she  had 
a  moment  to  send  aunt  Jane  the  particulars. 

"I  don'  know  how  'tis,"  grumbled  Miranda,  who 
was  not  able  to  sit  up  that  day ;  "  but  from  a  child 
I  could  never  lay  abed  without  Aurelia's  gettin'  sick 
too.  I  don'  know  's  she  could  help  fallin',  though 
it  ain't  any  place  for  a  woman,  —  a  haymow  ;  but 
if  it  had  n't  been  that,  't  would  'a'  been  somethin' 
else.  Aurelia  was  born  unfortunate.  Now  she  '11 
probably  be  a  cripple,  and  Rebecca  '11  have  to  nurse 
her  instead  of  earning  a  good  income  somewheres 
else." 

"  Her  first  duty  's  to  her  mother,"  said  aunt  Jane  ; 
"I  hope  she'll  always  remember  that." 

rt  Nobody  remembers  anything  they  'd  ought  to, 


304  REBECCA 

—  at  seventeen,"  responded  Miranda.  "  Now  that 
I  'm  strong  again,  there  's  things  I  want  to  consider 
with  you,  Jane,  things  that  are  on  my  mind  night 
and  day.  We  Ve  talked  'em  over  before  ;  now  we  '11 
settle  'em.  When  I  'm  laid  away,  do  you  want  to 
take  Aurelia  and  the  children  down  here  to  the  brick 
house  ?  There 's  an  awful  passel  of  'em,  —  Aurelia, 
Jenny,  and  Fanny  ;  but  I  won't  have  Mark.  Han 
nah  can  take  him ;  I  won't  have  a  great  boy  stompin* 
out  the  carpets  and  ruinin'  the  furniture,  though 
I  know  when  I  'm  dead  I  can't  hinder  ye,  if  you 
make  up  your  mind  to  do  anything." 

"  I  should  n't  like  to  go  against  your  feelings, 
especially  in  laying  out  your  money,  Miranda,"  said 
Jane. 

"  Don't  tell  Rebecca  I  Ve  willed  her  the  brick 
house.  She  won't  git  it  till  I  'm  gone,  and  I  want  to 
take  my  time  'bout  dyin'  and  not  be  hurried  off  by 
them  that's  goin'  to  profit  by  it ;  nor  I  don't  want  to 
be  thanked,  neither.  I  s'pose  she  '11  use  the  front 
stairs  as  common  as  the  back  and  like  as  not  have 
water  brought  into  the  kitchen,  but  mebbe  when 
I  Ve  been  dead  a  few  years  I  shan't  mind.  She  sets 
such  store  by  you,  she  '11  want  you  to  have  your  home 
here  as  long 's  you  live,  but  anyway  I  Ve  wrote  it 
down  that  way ;  though  Lawyer  Burns' s  wills  don't 
hold  more  'n  half  the  time.  He 's  cheaper,  but  I 
guess  it  comes  out  jest  the  same  in  the  end.  I 
wan't  goin'  to  have  the  fust  man  Rebecca  picks  up 
for  a  husband  turnin'  you  ou'doors." 


REBECCA  305 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  Jane  knit 
silently,  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes  from  time 
to  time,  as  she  looked  at  the  pitiful  figure  lying 
weakly  on  the  pillows.  Suddenly  Miranda  said  slowly 
and  feebly :  — 

"  I  don'  know  after  all  but  you  might  as  well 
take  Mark  ;  I  s'pose  there  's  tame  boys  as  well  as 
wild  ones.  There  ain't  a  mite  o'  sense  in  havin' 
so  many  children, but  it's  a  tumble  risk  splittin'  up 
families  and  farmin'  'em  out  here  'n'  there  ;  they  'd 
never  come  to  no  good,  an'  everybody  would  keep 
rememberin'  their  mother  was  a  Sawyer.  Now  if 
you  '11  draw  down  the  curtin,  I  '11  try  to  sleep." 


XXIX 

MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER 

TWO  months  had  gone  by,  —  two  months  of 
steady,  fagging  work ;  of  cooking,  wash 
ing,  ironing;  of  mending  and  caring  for 
the  three  children,  although  Jenny  was  fast  becom 
ing  a  notable  little  housewife,  quick,  ready,  and 
capable.  They  were  months  in  which  there  had 
been  many  a  weary  night  of  watching  by  Aurelia's 
bedside ;  of  soothing  and  bandaging  and  rubbing ; 
of  reading  and  nursing,  even  of  feeding  and  bath 
ing.  The  ceaseless  care  was  growing  less  now,  and 
the  family  breathed  more  freely,  for  the  mother's 
sigh  of  pain  no  longer  came  from  the  stifling  bed 
room,  where,  during  a  hot  and  humid  August, 
Aurelia  had  lain,  suffering  with  every  breath  she 
drew.  There  would  be  no  question  of  walking  for 
many  a  month  to  come,  but  blessings  seemed  to 
multiply  when  the  blinds  could  be  opened  and  the 
bed  drawn  near  the  window;  when  mother,  with 
pillows  behind  her,  could  at  least  sit  and  watch  the 
work  going  on,  could  smile  at  the  past  agony  and 
forget  the  weary  hours  that  had  led  to  her  present 
comparative  ease  and  comfort. 

No  girl  of  seventeen  can  pass  through  such  an 
ordeal  and  come  out  unchanged ;  no  girl  of  Re- 


REBECCA  307 

becca's  temperament  could  go  through  it  without 
some  inward  repining  and  rebellion.  She  was  doing 
tasks  in  which  she  could  not  be  fully  happy,  —  heavy 
and  trying  tasks,  which  perhaps  she  could  never 
do  with  complete  success  or  satisfaction ;  and  like 
promise  of  nectar  to  thirsty  lips  was  the  vision  of 
joys  she  had  had  to  put  aside  for  the  perform 
ance  of  dull  daily  duty.  How  brief,  how  fleeting, 
had  been  those  splendid  visions  when  the  uni 
verse  seemed  open  for  her  young  strength  to  battle 
and  triumph  in !  How  soon  they  had  faded  into 
the  light  of  common  day !  At  first,  sympathy  and 
grief  were  so  keen  she  thought  of  nothing  but 
her  mother's  pain.  No  consciousness  of  self  inter 
posed  between  her  and  her  filial  service;  then,  as 
the  weeks  passed,  little  blighted  hopes  began  to  stir 
and  ache  in  her  breast ;  defeated  ambitions  raised 
their  heads  as  if  to  sting  her  ;  unattainable  delights 
teased  her  by  their  very  nearness ;  by  the  narrow 
line  of  separation  that  lay  between  her  and  their 
realization.  It  is  easy,  for  the  moment,  to  tread  the 
narrow  way,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  left, 
upborne  by  the  sense  of  right  doing ;  but  that  first 
joy  of  self-denial,  the  joy  that  is  like  fire  in  the 
blood,  dies  away ;  the  path  seems  drearier  and  the 
footsteps  falter.  Such  a  time  came  to  Rebecca,  and 
her  bright  spirit  flagged  when  the  letter  was  re 
ceived  saying  that  her  position  in  Augusta  had  been 
filled.  There  was  a  mutinous  leap  of  the  heart  then, 


308  REBECCA 

a  beating  of  wings  against  the  door  of  the  cage,  a 
longing  for  the  freedom  of  the  big  world  outside. 
It  was  the  stirring  of  the  powers  within  her,  though 
she  called  it  by  no  such  grand  name.  She  felt  as 
if  the  wind  of  destiny  were  blowing  her  flame 
hither  and  thither,  burning,  consuming  her,  but 
kindling  nothing.  All  this  meant  one  stormy  night 
in  her  little  room  at  Sunnybrook,  but  the  clouds 
blew  over,  the  sun  shone  again,  a  rainbow  stretched 
across  the  sky,  while  "hope  clad  in  April  green" 
smiled  into  her  upturned  face  and  beckoned  her  on, 
saying:  — 

"  Grow  old  along  with  me, 
The  best  is  yet  to  be." 

Threads  of  joy  ran  in  and  out  of  the  gray  tangled 
web  of  daily  living.  There  was  the  attempt  at  odd 
moments  to  make  the  bare  little  house  less  bare  by 
bringing  in  out-of-doors,  taking  a  leaf  from  Nature's 
book  and  noting  how  she  conceals  ugliness  wherever 
she  finds  it.  Then  there  was  the  satisfaction  of  being 
mistress  of  the  poor  domain  ;  of  planning,  govern 
ing,  deciding ;  of  bringing  order  out  of  chaos  ;  of  im 
planting  gayety  in  the  place  of  inert  resignation  to 
the  inevitable.  Another  element  of  comfort  was  the 
children's  love,  for  they  turned  to  her  as  flowers  to 
the  sun,  drawing  confidently  on  her  fund  of  stories, 
serene  in  the  conviction  that  there  was  no  limit  to 
Rebecca's  power  of  make-believe.  In  this,  and  in 
yet  greater  things,  little  as  she  realized  it,  the  law 


REBECCA  309 

of  compensation  was  working  in  her  behalf,  for  in 
those  anxious  days  mother  and  daughter  found  and 
knew  each  other  as  never  before.  A  new  sense  was 
born  in  Rebecca  as  she  hung  over  her  mother's  bed 
of  pain  and  unrest,  —  a  sense  that  comes  only  of  min 
istering,  a  sense  that  grows  only  when  the  strong 
bend  toward  the  weak.  As  for  Aurelia,  words  could 
never  have  expressed  her  dumb  happiness  when  the 
real  revelation  of  motherhood  was  vouchsafed  her. 
In  all  the  earlier  years  when  her  babies  were  young, 
carking  cares  and  anxieties  darkened  the  fireside 
with  their  brooding  wings.  Then  Rebecca  had  gone 
away,  and  in  the  long  months  of  absence  her  mind 
and  soul  had  grown  out  of  her  mother's  knowledge, 
so  that  now,  when  Aurelia  had  time  and  strength 
to  study  her  child,  she  was  like  some  enchanting 
changeling.  Aurelia  and  Hannah  had  gone  on  in 
the  dull  round  and  the  common  task,  growing  duller 
and  duller  ;  but  now,  on  a  certain  stage  of  life's 
journey,  who  should  appear  but  this  bewildering 
being,  who  gave  wings  to  thoughts  that  had  only 
crept  before ;  who  brought  color  and  grace  and 
harmony  into  the  dun  brown  texture  of  existence. 

You  might  harness  Rebecca  to  the  heaviest 
plough,  and  while  she  had  youth  on  her  side,  she 
would  always  remember  the  green  earth  under  her 
feet  and  the  blue  sky  over  her  head.  Her  physical 
eye  saw  the  cake  she  was  stirring  and  the  loaf  she 
was  kneading ;  her  physical  ear  heard  the  kitchen 


3io  REBECCA 

fire  crackling  and  the  teakettle  singing,  but  ever 
and  anon  her  fancy  mounted  on  pinions,  rested  it 
self,  renewed  its  strength  in  the  upper  air.  The 
bare  little  farmhouse  was  a  fixed  fact,  but  she  had 
many  a  palace  into  which  she  now  and  then  with 
drew  ;  palaces  peopled  with  stirring  and  gallant  fig 
ures  belonging  to  the  world  of  romance ;  palaces 
not  without  their  heavenly  apparitions  too,  breath 
ing  celestial  counsel.  Every  time  she  retired  to  her 
citadel  of  dreams  she  came  forth  radiant  and  re 
freshed,  as  one  who  has  seen  the  evening  star,  or 
heard  sweet  music,  or  smelled  the  rose  of  joy. 

Aurelia  could  have  understood  the  feeling  of 
a  narrow-minded  and  conventional  hen  who  has 
brought  a  strange,  intrepid  duckling  into  the  world  ; 
but  her  situation  was  still  more  wonderful,  for  she 
could  only  compare  her  sensations  to  those  of  some 
quiet  brown  Dorking  who  has  brooded  an  ordinary 
egg  and  hatched  a  bird  of  paradise.  Such  an  idea 
had  crossed  her  mind  more  than  once  during  the 
past  fortnight,  and  it  flashed  to  and  fro  this  mellow 
October  morning  when  Rebecca  came  into  the  room 
with  her  arms  full  of  goldenrod  and  flaming  autumn 
leaves. 

"  Just  a  hint  of  the  fall  styles,  mother,"  she  said, 
slipping  the  stem  of  a  gorgeous  red  and  yellow  sap 
ling  between  the  mattress  and  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
"This  was  leaning  over  the  pool,  and  I  was  afraid 
it  would  be  vain  if  I  left  it  there  too  long  looking 


REBECCA 

at  its  beautiful  reflection,  so  I  took  it  away  from 
danger ;  is  n't  it  wonderful  ?  How  I  wish  I  could 
carry  one  to  poor  aunt  Miranda  to-day  !  There  's 
never  a  flower  in  the  brick  house  when  I  'm 
away." 

It  was  a  marvelous  morning.  The  sun  had  climbed 
into  a  world  that  held  in  remembrance  only  a  suc 
cession  of  golden  days  and  starlit  nights.  The  air 
was  fragrant  with  ripening  fruit,  and  there  was  a 
mad  little  bird  on  a  tree  outside  the  door  nearly 
bursting  his  throat  with  joy  of  living.  He  had  for 
gotten  that  summer  was  over,  that  winter  must  ever 
come  ;  and  who  could  think  of  cold  winds,  bare 
boughs,  or  frozen  streams  on  such  a  day  ?  A  painted 
moth  came  in  at  the  open  window  and  settled  on 
the  tuft  of  brilliant  leaves.  Aurelia  heard  the  bird 
and  looked  from  the  beauty  of  the  glowing  bush  to 
her  tall,  splendid  daughter,  standing  like  young 
Spring  with  golden  Autumn  in  her  arms. 

Then  suddenly  she  covered  her  eyes  and  cried, 
"  I  can't  bear  it !  Here  I  lie  chained  to  this  bed, 
interfering  with  everything  you  want  to  do.  It 's  all 
wasted  !  All  my  saving  and  doing  without  ;  all  your 
hard  study  ;  all  Mirandy's  outlay  ;  everything  that 
we  thought  was  going  to  be  the  making  of  you  ! " 

"  Mother,  mother,  don't  talk  so,  don't  think 
so  !  "  exclaimed  Rebecca,  sitting  down  impetuously 
on  the  floor  by  the  bed  and  dropping  the  goldenrod 
by  her  side.  "  Why,  mother,  I  'm  only  a  little  past 


312  REBECCA 

seventeen !  This  person  in  a  purple  calico  apron 
with  flour  on  her  nose  is  only  the  beginnings  of  me ! 
Do  you  remember  the  young  tree  that  John  trans 
planted  ?  We  had  a  dry  summer  and  a  cold  winter 
and  it  did  n't  grow  a  bit,  nor  show  anything  of  all 
we  did  for  it ;  then  there  was  a  good  year  and  it 
made  up  for  lost  time.  This  is  just. my  little  ' root 
ing  season/  mother,  but  don't  go  and  believe  my 
day  is  over,  because  it  has  n't  begun  !  The  old 
maple  by  the  well  that 's  in  its  hundredth  year  had 
new  leaves  this  summer,  so  there  must  be  hope  for 
me  at  seventeen  !  " 

"  You  can  put  a  brave  face  on  it,"  sobbed  Au- 
relia,  "  but  you  can't  deceive  me.  You  've  lost  your 
place ;  you  '11  never  see  your  friends  here,  and 
you  're  nothing  but  a  drudge  !  " 

"  I  look  like  a  drudge,"  said  Rebecca  mysteri 
ously,  with  laughing  eyes,  "  but  I  really  am  a  prin 
cess  ;  you  must  n't  tell,  but  this  is  only  a  disguise  ; 
I  wear  it  for  reasons  of  state.  The  king  and  queen 
who  are  at  present  occupying  my  throne  are  very 
old  and  tottering,  and  are  going  to  abdicate  shortly 
in  my  favor.  It 's  rather  a  small  kingdom,  I  sup 
pose,  as  kingdoms  go,  so  there  is  n't  much  struggle 
for  it  in  royal  circles,  and  you  must  n't  expect  to 
see  a  golden  throne  set  with  jewels.  It  will  prob 
ably  be  only  of  ivory  with  a  nice  screen  of  peacock 
feathers  for  a  background ;  but  you  shall  have  a 
comfortable  chair  very  near  it,  with  quantities  of 


REBECCA  313 

slaves  to  do  what  they  call  in  novels  your  'lightest 
bidding:  " 

Aurelia  smiled  in  spite  of  herself,  and  though  not 
perhaps  wholly  deceived,  she  was  comforted. 

"  I  only  hope  you  won't  have  to  wait  too  long  for 
your  thrones  and  your  kingdoms,  Rebecca,"  she 
said,  "and  that  I  shall  have  a  sight  of  them  before 
I  die ;  but  life  looks  very  hard  and  rough  to  me, 
what  with  your  aunt  Miranda  a  cripple  at  the  brick 
house,  me  another  here  at  the  farm,  you  tied  hand 
and  foot,  first  with  one  and  then  with  the  other, 
to  say  nothing  of  Jenny  and  Fanny  and  Mark  ! 
You  Ve  got  something  of  your  father's  happy  dis 
position,  or  it  would  weigh  on  you  as  it  does  on 
me." 

"Why,  mother!"  cried  Rebecca,  clasping  her 
knees  with  her  hands  ;  "  why,  mother,  it 's  enough 
joy  just  to  be  here  in  the  world  on  a  day  like  this  ; 
to  have  the  chance  of  seeing,  feeling,  doing,  becom 
ing  !  When  you  were  seventeen,  mother,  was  n't  it 
good  just  to  be  alive  ?  You  have  n't  forgotten  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Aurelia,  "  but  I  was  n't  so  much  alive 
as  you  are,  never  in  the  world." 

"  I  often  think,"  Rebecca  continued,  walking  to 
the  window  and  looking  out  at  the  trees,  —  "  I  often 
think  how  dreadful  it  would  be  if  I  were  not  here 
at  all.  If  Hannah  had  come,  and  then,  instead  of 
me,  John  ;  John  and  Jenny  and  Fanny  and  the 
others,  but  no  Rebecca ;  never  any  Rebecca !  To 


314  REBECCA 

be  alive  makes  up  for  everything ;  there  ought  to 
be  fears  in  my  heart,  but  there  are  n't ;  something 
stronger  sweeps  them  out,  something  like  a  wind, 
Oh,  see !  There  is  Will  driving  up  the  lane, 
mother,  and  he  ought  to  have  a  letter  from  the 
brick  house." 


XXX 

GOOD-BY,  SUNNYBROOK 

WILL  MELVILLE  drove  up  to  the  win 
dow  and,  tossing  a  letter  into  Rebecca's 
lap,  went  off  to  the  barn  on  an  errand. 
"  Sister's  no  worse,  then,"  sighed  Aurelia  grate 
fully,  "  or  Jane  would  have  telegraphed.    See  what 
she  says." 

Rebecca  opened  the  envelope  and  read  in  one 
flash  of  an  eye  the  whole  brief  page  :  — 

Your  aunt  Miranda  passed  away  an  hour  ago. 
Come  at  once,  if  your  mother  is  out  of  danger.  I 
shall  not  have  the  funeral  till  you  are  here.  She 
died  very  suddenly  and  without  any  pain.  Oh,  Re 
becca  !  I  long  for  you  so ! 

AUNT  JANE. 

The  force  of  habit  was  too  strong,  and  even 
in  the  hour  of  death  Jane  had  remembered  that 
a  telegram  was  twenty-five  cents,  and  that  Aure 
lia  would  have  to  pay  half  a  dollar  for  its  deliv 
ery. 

Rebecca  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears  as  she 
cried,  "  Poor,  poor  aunt  Miranda !  She  is  gone 
without  taking  a  bit  of  comfort  in  life,  and  I 


316  REBECCA 

could  n't  say  good-by  to  her !  Poor  lonely  aunt 
Jane !  What  can  I  do,  mother  ?  I  feel  torn  in  two, 
between  you  and  the  brick  house." 

"  You  must  go  this  very  instant,"  said  Aurelia, 
starting  from  her  pillows.  "  If  I  was  to  die  while 
you  were  away,  I  would  say  the  very  same  thing. 
Your  aunts  have  done  everything  in  the  world  for 
you,  —  more  than  I  've  ever  been  able  to  do,  —  and 
it  is  your  turn  to  pay  back  some  o*  their  kindness 
and  show  your  gratitude.  The  doctor  says  I  've 
turned  the  corner  and  I  feel  I  have.  Jenny  can 
make  out  somehow,  if  Hannah  '11  come  over  once 
a  day." 

"  But,  mother,  I  can't  go  !  Who  '11  turn  you  in 
bed?"  exclaimed  Rebecca,  walking  the  floor  and 
wringing  her  hands  distractedly. 

"It  don't  make  any  difference  if  I  don't  get 
turned,"  replied  Aurelia  stoically.  "If  a  woman 
of  my  age  and  the  mother  of  a  family  has  n't  got 
sense  enough  not  to  slip  off  haymows,  she  'd  ought 
to  suffer.  Go  put  on  your  black  dress  and  pack  your 
bag.  I  'd  give  a  good  deal  if  I  was  able  to  go  to 
my  sister's  funeral  and  prove  that  I  've  forgotten 
and  forgiven  all  she  said  when  I  was  married.  Her 
acts  were  softer  'n  her  words,  Mirandy's  were,  and 
she 's  made  up  to  you  for  all  she  ever  sinned 
against  me  'n'  your  father !  And  oh,  Rebecca,"  she 
continued  with  quivering  voice,  "I  remember  so 
well  when  we  were  little  girls  together  and  she  took 


REBECCA  317 

such  pride  in  curling  my  hair ;  and  another  time, 
when  we  were  grown  up,  she  lent  me  her  best  blue 
muslin  :  it  was  when  your  father  had  asked  me  to 
lead  the  grand  march  with  him  at  the  Christmas 
dance,  and  I  found  out  afterwards  she  thought  he  'd 
intended  to  ask  her !  " 

Here  Aurelia  broke  down  and  wept  bitterly  ;  for 
the  recollection  of  the  past  had  softened  her  heart 
and  brought  the  comforting  tears  even  more  effec 
tually  than  the  news  of  her  sister's  death. 

There  was  only  an  hour  for  preparation.  Will 
would  drive  Rebecca  to  Temperance  and  send 
Jenny  back  from  school.  He  volunteered  also  to 
engage  a  woman  to  sleep  at  the  farm  in  case  Mrs. 
Randall  should  be  worse  at  any  time  in  the  night. 

Rebecca  flew  down  over  the  hill  to  get  a  last  pail 
of  spring  water,  and  as  she  lifted  the  bucket  from 
the  crystal  depths  and  looked  out  over  the  glowing 
beauty  of  the  autumn  landscape,  she  saw  a  company 
of  surveyors  with  their  instruments  making  calcu 
lations  and  laying  lines  that  apparently  crossed 
Sunnybrook  at  the  favorite  spot  where  Mirror  Pool 
lay  clear  and  placid,  the  yellow  leaves  on  its  surface 
no  yellower  than  its  sparkling  sands. 

She  caught  her  breath.  "  The  time  has  come  !  " 
she  thought.  "  I  am  saying  good-by  to  Sunny- 
brook,  and  the  golden  gates  that  almost  swung  to 
gether  that  last  day  in  Wareham  will  close  forever 
now.  Good-by,  dear  brook  and  hills  and  meadows ; 


318  REBECCA 

you  are  going  to  see  life  too,  so  we  must  be  hopeful 
and  say  to  one  another :  — 

" '  Grow  old  along  with  me, 
The  best  is  yet  to  be.' " 

Will  Melville  had  seen  the  surveyors  too,  and 
had  heard  in  the  Temperance  post-office  that  morn 
ing  the  probable  sum  that  Mrs.  Randall  would  re 
ceive  from  the  railway  company.  He  was  in  good 
spirits  at  his  own  improved  prospects,  for  his  farm 
was  so  placed  that  its  value  could  be  only  increased 
by  the  new  road ;  he  was  also  relieved  in  mind 
that  his  wife's  family  would  no  longer  be  in  dire 
poverty  directly  at  his  doorstep,  so  to  speak.  John 
could  now  be  hurried  forward  and  forced  into  the 
position  of  head  of  the  family  several  years  sooner 
than  had  been  anticipated,  so  Hannah's  husband 
was  obliged  to  exercise  great  self-control  or  he 
would  have  whistled  while  he  was  driving  Rebecca 
to  the  Temperance  station.  He  could  not  under 
stand  her  sad  face  or  the  tears  that  rolled  silently 
down  her  cheeks  from  time  to  time ;  for  Hannah 
had  always  represented  her  aunt  Miranda  as  an 
irascible,  parsimonious  old  woman,  who  would  be 
no  loss  to  the  world  whenever  she  should  elect  to 
disappear  from  it. 

"  Cheer  up,  Becky !  "  he  said,  as  he  left  her  at  the 
depot  "  You  '11  find  your  mother  sitting  up  when 
you  come  back,  and  the  next  thing  you  know  the 


REBECCA  319 

whole  family  '11  be  moving  to  some  nice  little  house 
wherever  your  work  is.  Things  will  never  be  so 
bad  again  as  they  have  been  this  last  year  ;  that 's 
what  Hannah  and  I  think ; "  and  he  drove  away  to 
tell  his  wife  the  news. 

Adam  Ladd  was  in  the  station  and  came  up  to 
Rebecca  instantly,  as  she  entered  the  door  looking 
very  unlike  her  bright  self. 

"The  Princess  is  sad  this  morning,"  he  said, 
taking  her  hand.  "Aladdin  must  rub  the  magic 
lamp ;  then  the  slave  will  appear,  and  these  tears 
be  dried  in  a  trice." 

He  spoke  lightly,  for  he  thought  her  trouble 
was  something  connected  with  affairs  at  Sunny- 
brook,  and  that  he  could  soon  bring  the  smiles  by 
telling  her  that  the  farm  was  sold  and  that  her 
mother  was  to  receive  a  handsome  price  in  return. 
He  meant  to  remind  her,  too,  that  though  she  must 
leave  the  home  of  her  youth,  it  was  too  remote  a 
place  to  be  a  proper  dwelling  either  for  herself  or 
for  her  lonely  mother  and  the  three  younger  chil 
dren.  He  could  hear  her  say  as  plainly  as  if  it  were 
yesterday,  "  I  don't  think  one  ever  forgets  the  spot 
where  one  lived  as  a  child."  He  could  see  the  quaint 
little  figure  sitting  on  the  piazza  at  North  Riverboro 
and  watch  it  disappear  in  the  lilac  bushes  when  he 
gave  the  memorable  order  for  three  hundred  cakes 
of  Rose-Red  and  Snow-White  soap. 

A  word  or  two  soon  told  him  that  her  grief  was 


320  REBECCA 

of  another  sort,  and  her  mood  was  so  absent,  so 
sensitive  and  tearful,  that  he  could  only  assure  her 
of  his  sympathy  and  beg  that  he  might  come  soon 
to  the  brick  house  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  how 
she  was  faring. 

Adam  thought,  when  he  had  put  her  on  the  train 
and  taken  his  leave,  that  Rebecca  was,  in  her  sad 
dignity  and  gravity,  more  beautiful  than  he  had  ever 
seen  her, — all-beautiful  and  all-womanly.  But  in  that 
moment's  speech  with  her  he  had  looked  into  her 
eyes  and  they  were  still  those  of  a  child  ;  there  was 
no  knowledge  of  the  world  in  their  shining  depths, 
no  experience  of  men  or  women,  no  passion,  nor  com 
prehension  of  it.  He  turned  from  the  little  country 
station  to  walk  in  the  woods  by  the  wayside  until 
his  own  train  should  be  leaving,  and  from  time  to 
time  he  threw  himself  under  a  tree  to  think  and 
dream  and  look  at  the  glory  of  the  foliage.  He 
had  brought  a  new  copy  of  The  Arabian  Nights  for 
Rebecca,  wishing  to  replace  the  well-worn  old  one 
that  had  been  the  delight  of  her  girlhood  ;  but 
meeting  her  at  such  an  inauspicious  time,  he  had 
absently  carried  it  away  with  him.  He  turned  the 
pages  idly  until  he  came  to  the  story  of  Aladdin 
and  the  Wonderful  Lamp,  and  presently,  in  spite 
of  his  thirty-four  years,  the  old  tale  held  him  spell 
bound  as  it  did  in  the  days  when  he  first  read  it  as 
a  boy.  But  there  were  certain  paragraphs  that  espe 
cially  caught  his  eye  and  arrested  his  attention,  — 


REBECCA  321 

paragraphs  that  he  read  and  reread,  rinding  in  them 
he  knew  not  what  secret  delight  and  significance. 
These  were  the  quaintly  turned  phrases  describing 
the  effect  on  the  once  poor  Aladdin  of  his  won 
derful  riches,  and  those  descanting  upon  the  beauty 
and  charm  of  the  Sultan's  daughter,  the  Princess 
Badroulboudour :  — 

Not  only  those  who  knew  Aladdin  when  he 
played  in  the  streets  like  a  vagabond  did  not  know 
him  again ;  those  who  had  seen  him  but  a  little 
while  before  hardly  knew  him,  so  much  were  his 
features  altered ;  such  were  the  effects  of  the  lamp, 
as  to  procure  by  degrees  to  those  who  possessed  it, 
perfections  agreeable  to  the  rank  the  right  use  of  it 
advanced  them  to. 

The  Princess  was  the  most  beautiful  brunette  in 
the  world ;  her  eyes  were  large,  lively,  and  spar 
kling ;  her  looks  sweet  and  modest ;  her  nose  was  of 
a  just  proportion  and  without  a  fault ;  her  mouth 
small,  her  lips  of  a  vermilion  red,  and  charmingly 
agreeable  symmetry  ;  in  a  word,  all  the  features  of 
her  face  were  perfectly  regular.  It  is  not  therefore 
surprising  that  Aladdin,  who  had  never  seen,  and 
was  a  stranger  to,  so  many  charms,  was  dazzled. 
With  all  these  perfections  the  Princess  had  so  deli 
cate  a  shape,  so  majestic  an  air,  that  the  sight  of  her 
was  sufficient  to  inspire  respect. 


322  REBECCA 

"  Adorable  Princess"  said  Aladdin  to  her,  accost 
ing  her,  and  saluting  her  respectfidly,  "  if  I  have  the 
misfortune  to  have  displeased  you  by  my  boldness  in 
aspiring  to  the  possession  of  so  lovely  a  creaturet  1 
must  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  blame  your  bright 
eyes  and  charms,  not  me" 

"  Prince"  answered  the  Princess,  " it  is  enough 
forme  to  have  seen  you,  to  tell  you  that  I  obey  with' 
out  reluctance" 


XXXI 

AUNT   MIRANDA'S   APOLOGY 

WHEN  Rebecca  alighted  from  the  train 
at  Maplewood  and  hurried  to  the  post- 
office  where  the  stage  was  standing, 
what  was  her  joy  to  see  uncle  Jerry  Cobb  holding 
the  horses'  heads. 

"The  reg'lar  driver's  sick,"  he  explained,  "  and 
when  they  sent  for  me,  thinks  I  to  myself,  my 
drivin'  days  is  over,  but  Rebecky  won't  let  the  grass 
grow  under  her  feet  when  she  gits  her  aunt  Jane's 
letter,  and  like  as  not  I  '11  ketch  her  to-day ;  or,  if 
she  gits  delayed,  to-morrow  for  certain.  So  here  I 
be  jest  as  I  was  more  'n  six  year  ago.  Will  you  be 
a  real  lady  passenger,  or  will  ye  sit  up  in  front 
with  me  ? " 

Emotions  of  various  sorts  were  all  struggling 
together  in  the  old  man's  face,  and  the  two  or 
three  bystanders  were  astounded  when  they  saw 
the  handsome,  stately  girl  fling  herself  on  Mr. 
Cobb's  dusty  shoulder  crying  like  a  child.  "  Oh, 
uncle  Jerry  !  "  she  sobbed  ;  "  dear  uncle  Jerry  !  It 's 
all  so  long  ago,  and  so  much  has  happened,  and 
we've  grown  so  eld,  and  so  much  is  going  to  hap 
pen  that  I  'm  fairly  frightened." 


324  REBECCA 

"There,  there,  lovey,"  the  old  man  whispered 
comfortingly,  "  we  '11  be  all  alone  on  the  stage,  and 
we  '11  talk  things  over  's  we  go  along  the  road  an' 
mebbe  they  won't  look  so  bad." 

Every  mile  of  the  way  was  as  familiar  to  Rebecca 
as  to  uncle  Jerry ;  every  watering-trough,  grind 
stone,  red  barn,  weather-vane,  duck-pond,  and  sandy 
brook.  And  all  the  time  she  was  looking  backward 
to  the  day,  seemingly  so  long  ago,  when  she  sat  on 
the  box  seat  for  the  first  time,  her  legs  dangling  in 
the  air,  too  short  to  reach  the  footboard.  She  could 
smell  the  big  bouquet  of  lilacs,  see  the  pink-flounced 
parasol,  feel  the  stiffness  of  the  starched  buff  calico 
and  the  hated  prick  of  the  black  and  yellow  porcu 
pine  quills.  The  drive  was  taken  almost  in  silence, 
but  it  was  a  sweet,  comforting  silence  both  to 
uncle  Jerry  and  the  girl. 

Then  came  the  sight  of  Abijah  Flagg  shelling 
beans  in  the  barn,  and  then  the  Perkins  attic  win 
dows  with  a  white  cloth  fluttering  from  them.  She 
could  spell  Emma  Jane's  loving  thought  and  wel 
come  in  that  little  waving  flag  ;  a  word  and  a  mes 
sage  sent  to  her  just  at  the  first  moment  when 
Riverboro  chimneys  rose  into  view ;  something  to 
warm  her  heart  till  they  could  meet. 

The  brick  house  came  next,  looking  just  as  of 
yore ;  though  it  seemed  to  Rebecca  as  if  death 
should  have  cast  some  mysterious  spell  over  it. 
There  were  the  rolling  meadows,  the  stately  elms, 


REBECCA  325 

all  yellow  and  brown  now  ;  the  glowing  maples, 
the  garden-beds  bright  with  asters,  and  the  holly 
hocks,  rising  tall  against  the  parlor  windows ;  only 
in  place  of  the  cheerful  pinks  and  reds  of  the 
nodding  stalks,  with  their  gay  rosettes  of  bloom, 
was  a  crape  scarf  holding  the  blinds  together,  and 
another  on  the  sitting-room  side,  and  another  on 
the  brass  knocker  of  the  brown-painted  door. 

"  Stop,  uncle  Jerry  !  Don't  turn  in  at  the  side ; 
hand  me  my  satchel,  please ;  drop  me  in  the  road 
and  let  me  run  up  the  path  by  myself.  Then  drive 
away  quickly." 

At  the  noise  and  rumble  of  the  approaching 
stage  the  house  door  opened  from  within,  just  as 
Rebecca  closed  the  gate  behind  her.  Aunt  Jane 
came  down  the  stone  steps,  a  changed  woman, 
frail  and  broken  and  white.  Rebecca  held  out  her 
arms  and  the  old  aunt  crept  into  them  feebly,  as 
she  did  on  that  day  when  she  opened  the  grave  of 
her  buried  love  and  showed  the  dead  face,  just  for 
an  instant,  to  a  child.  Warmth  and  strength  and 
life  flowed  into  the  aged  frame  from  the  young  one. 

"  Rebecca,"  she  said,  raising  her  head,  "  before 
you  go  in  to  look  at  her,  do  you  feel  any  bitterness 
over  anything  she  ever  said  to  you  ?  " 

Rebecca's  eyes  blazed  reproach,  almost  anger,  as 
she  said  chokingly  :  "  Oh,  aunt  Jane  !  Could  you 
believe  it  of  me  ?  I  am  going  in  with  a  heart  brim 
ful  of  gratitude  ! " 


326  REBECCA 

"She  was  a  good  woman,  Rebecca;  she  had  a 
quick  temper  and  a  sharp  tongue,  but  she  wanted 
to  do  right,  and  she  did  it  as  near  as  she  could. 
She  never  said  so,  but  I  'm  sure  she  was  sorry  for 
every  hard  word  she  spoke  to  you  ;  she  did  n't  take 
'em  back  in  life,  but  she  acted  so  't  you  'd  know  her 
feeling  when  she  was  gone." 

"  I  told  her  before  I  left  that  she  'd  been  the  mak 
ing  of  me,  just  as  mother  says,"  sobbed  Rebecca. 

"  She  was  n't  that,"  said  Jane.  "  God  made  you 
in  the  first  place,  and  you  've  done  considerable  your 
self  to  help  Him  along ;  but  she  gave  you  the  where 
withal  to  work  with,  and  that  ain't  to  be  despised ; 
specially  when  anybody  gives  up  her  own  luxuries 
and  pleasures  to  do  it.  Now  let  me  tell  you  some 
thing,  Rebecca.  Your  aunt  Mirandy  's  willed  all  this 
to  you,  —  the  brick  house  and  buildings  and  furni 
ture,  and  the  land  all  round  the  house,  as  far 's  you 


can  see." 


Rebecca  threw  off  her  hat  and  put  her  hand  to 
her  heart,  as  she  always  did  in  moments  of  intense 
excitement.  After  a  moment's  silence  she  said : 
"  Let  me  go  in  alone ;  I  want  to  talk  to  her ;  I  want 
to  thank  her ;  I  feel  as  if  I  could  make  her  hear  and 
feel  and  understand !  " 

Jane  went  back  into  the  kitchen  to  the  inexorable 
tasks  that  death  has  no  power,  even  for  a  day,  to 
blot  from  existence.  He  can  stalk  through  dwelling 
after  dwelling,  leaving  despair  and  desolation  behind 


REBECCA  327 

him,  but  the  table  must  be  laid,  the  dishes  washed, 
the  beds  made,  by  somebody. 

Ten  minutes  later  Rebecca  came  out  from  the 
Great  Presence  looking  white  and  spent,  but  chas 
tened  and  glorified.  She  sat  in  the  quiet  doorway, 
shaded  from  the  little  Riverboro  world  by  the  over 
hanging  elms.  A  wide  sense  of  thankfulness  and 
peace  possessed  her,  as  she  looked  at  the  autumn 
landscape,  listened  to  the  rumble  of  a  wagon  on  the 
bridge,  and  heard  the  call  of  the  river  as  it  dashed 
to  the  sea.  She  put  up  her  hand  softly  and  touched 
first  the  shining  brass  knocker  and  then  the  red 
bricks,  glowing  in  the  October  sun. 

It  was  home;  her  roof,  her  garden,  her  green 
acres,  her  dear  trees  ;  it  was  shelter  for  the  little 
family  at  Sunnybrook  ;  her  mother  would  have  once 
more  the  companionship  of  her  sister  and  the  friends 
of  her  girlhood ;  the  children  would  have  teachers 
and  playmates. 

And  she  ?  Her  own  future  was  close-folded  still ; 
folded  and  hidden  in  beautiful  mists  ;  but  she  leaned 
her  head  against  the  sun-warmed  door,  and  clos 
ing  her  eyes,  whispered,  just  as  if  she  had  been  a 
child  saying  her  prayers  :  "  God  bless  aunt  Miranda ; 
God  bless  the  brick  house  that  was  ;  God  bless  the 
brick  house  that  is  to  be !  " 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

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University  of  California 
Berkeley 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


C022L10301 


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